#ten x reader smut

[gojosnympho]

this is so deeply unserious but sometimes being ridiculous is good for the soul! i hope you enjoy this silly ass short.

“cock or dick?” you asked wooyoung whilst you both were in the kitchen. you were leaned against the island and he was preparing food for dinner.

he stopped chopping, “what?” he asked looking away from the cutting board at you.

“do you prefer calling it a cock or a dick?”

“you’re asking me what i prefer to call my penis?” he asked in disbelief and all you did was nod at him. “i don’t know i guess i haven’t really thought about it.”

“you usually say dick when we’re fucking,” you acknowledged. “like you’ll say ‘take this dick’ or something like ‘does my dick feel good?’ but you say cock too sometimes!”

wooyoung was dumbfounded. he laid the knife down on the cutting board and folded his arms over his chest.

you continued, “cock is such a harsh word. i don’t like it personally. but i like when you say it because with your accent it doesn’t sound as harsh. dick sounds better, more appealing, ya know?”

“why do you always have to be so weird, sweetheart?” wooyoung asked you with a laugh. “but i like calling it a dick more. like ‘come here and suck my dick’.”

his words made a shiver run down your spine. you almost hoped he didn’t notice the way you’d gotten quiet but of course he did. you’re his baby. so of course he took advantage. he walked closer to you and hooked his index finger beneath your chin.

“you’re shy now?” he asked you. he was staring at you so intensely that you had to look away but he used the hand that was already on your chin to turn your head back toward him. “you weren’t shy when you were using those words.”

“i was just curious,” you told him.

“well how about i put my dick in that pretty pussy so i can cure your curiosity?”

[d3arapril]

CASUAL | p.b

because what else would i call something in which u eat paige out in the passenger seat?

the car is hot. the windows are steamed up and you can feel your knees hurting from being stuck in the footwell of the passenger seat.

you cast a glance up and all of a sudden the pain your knees dissipates when you see how fucked paige looks. her head is thrown back against the seat, blonde strands sticking against her neck and forehead from how hot the small space had gotten.

her glasses are still on and if you squint you can see they’re starting to steam up a little bit. she’s got the hem of her t-shirt tucked between her teeth and when your eyes travel down further you can see the sweat darkening the elastic of her grey sports bra. her stomach is tight, abs tensed and the squeeze of her hand against your shoulder snaps you back to reality.

your fingers had stilled inside of her and you let out a breath of a laugh. “sorry,” you dip down to kiss against her clit and her hips buck up, chasing the feeling.

“i nheed t’ fhucking cum.” paige barely makes out, foot kicking against the dash when her hips jump up again.

“yeah?”

she doesn’t respond, just lolls her head to the side to stare down at you through her glasses which have slipped down her nose. you give her your most innocent smile before pulling your fingers out and licking a stripe up her pussy.

her eyes cross slightly, tshirt dropping from her mouth and snapping against her stomach when she moans out loud for the first time. a hurried hand slips from the steamed glass to push the fabric up, holding it against her chest as she watches you work.

you focus on her clit, pulling it into your mouth and rolling your tongue against it. two fingers slip inside her again, curling up until you can hear them inside her.

“yeah, yeah, yeah,” she’s chanting out into the sticky air of the car, head thrown back again. the hand on your shoulder moves to the back of your head, pushing your face further into her until you can’t catch a breath. a growl-like moan leaves her and she’s arching her back against the chair, ass almost lifting up from the seat. “don’t fucking stop.”

you wouldn’t dream of it.

[joeybsblackgf]

perfect - joe burrow

pairing: joe burrow x black!fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 2.7k

content warnings: breeding kink, whisper of a daddy kink, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), they’re really in love

synopsis: joey just loves how perfect you are.

playlist: juno - sabrina carpenter

authors note: a hot, new joe burrow writer has entered the villa. hope u love it !! and if u like kpop u can check out my other works on @gojosnympho 🫶🏾

you didn’t go to a lot of joe’s away games. mainly because even though you were the girlfriend to a very rich and successful man, you were still a regular girl with a regular job and a regular life outside of him. you both preferred it that way, honestly. joe took comfort in the normalcy of you. being around you felt easy because you weren’t looking at him as joe burrow the quarterback of the cincinnati bengals. you were looking at him as joey, your boyfriend.

he came home monday night to the smell of you cooking dinner. he hadn’t even realized how hungry he was until the scent invaded his nostrils. he dropped his bags by the front door, promising himself that he’d get them later. the closer he got to the kitchen he could hear your sweet voice, very obviously singing along to whatever song was playing in your ears.

“how you let him cheat and take him back? must be your only nigga.” you rapped along with latto while you took the pan from the oven.

joe only watched you, taking in your comfy appearance. a tiny tank top, the shortest sleep shorts you could find, your bengals slippers, and of course a scarf on your head to protect your braids. his eyes were glued to your ass and the way the cheeks peeked out beneath the short fabric. you turned to see your boyfriend standing in the door of the kitchen, your heart leapt into your throat at the shock that ran through your body. you snatched your airpod out of your ear.

“god joey, you scared the fuck out of me!” you exclaimed. his heart fluttered at the name you called him, further proving his point of how you saw him.

“sorry, you just looked like you were locked in. i didn’t wanna disturb you.”

now that you were turned around, he saw just how tiny that tank top was. he could make out your brown nipples beneath the thin fabric and that fucking belly button ring with the diamond encrusted “j” dangling from it. his eyes trailed up to your face. that perfect, beautiful face that he had as his lock screen on his phone.

“it’s okay, baby boy! i cooked. are you hungry?” you asked him, not even aware of what you were doing to him. he didn’t know what it was about you but he felt like a teenager all over again because of the way he couldn’t control his body. he ignored his urges though, opting to give you a curt nod.

“starving,” joe replied.

“sit down then so i can make your plate.”

again, he nodded going to take a seat at the marble topped island in the middle of the kitchen. he watched you some more, his heart swelling once more with all the love he had for you. he didn’t think it was possible to love someone as much as he loved you. you sat his plate down in front of him and before you could walk away, joe pulled you into a kiss.

“what was that for?” you asked him when he pulled back.

“i love you,” joe said, his cheeks flushing that rosy pink color that made your heart melt.

“i love you too, joey.”

you walked away from him once more, this time to make your own plate. you were going to sit next to him but joe stopped you, “sit on my lap.”

he didn’t even give you a chance to answer before he was dragging your body onto his lap.

“isn’t this uncomfortable for you?” you asked joe who promptly shook his head no.

“is it uncomfortable for you?”

“no.”

“then relax and eat. i missed you, mama. i just wanna be around you,” he explained.

you talked some more while you ate dinner. you told joe all about what you got up to while he was away. he listened intently like he always did whenever you spoke to him.

“i miss you so much when i’m away. you gotta come with me to the next away game,” joe said with a hopeful tinge to his voice.

“okay!” you agreed, enthusiastically.

“you're so perfect,” he praised you. he placed a kiss atop your scarf-covered head.

once you both were settled for the night and about to get in bed, joe caught another glimpse of your nipples beneath your shirt. it reminded him of just how long he’d gone without being inside of you, three days. you crawled into bed next to the quarterback, none the wiser about the dirty thoughts swirling in his head. he pulled your body close to his so that you were pressed flush against his bare chest. the warmth of his body made you relax almost instantly. you missed him just as much when he was gone; even if it was just for a few days.

the cuddling started out innocently enough. you were both enjoying each other’s presence and warmth. joe absentmindedly began to stroke your arm with his deft fingers. you didn’t pay it any mind at first. you were just enjoying your boyfriend’s featherlight touches. he stopped those and used that hand to pull you in almost impossibly close. you gasped when you felt his erection poking you in the back.

“do you see what you do to me?”

“joey,” you breathed out.

“you’re so beautiful and so fucking perfect.”

he began to mouth kisses on your shoulder, his hand snaking around your neck to pull your head towards him so he could kiss you properly.

“been wanting to fuck you since i got home,” he admitted, his lips still against yours. he flipped you over on your back, his big frame on top of your much smaller one. “i’m so lucky to call you mine.”

joe put his lips against yours again, pushing his tongue past your lips to kiss you. it felt like he was replacing all the air in your lungs with his own. his hands began to trail over every part of your body making you ache with need. you could still feel how hard he was from where you laid beneath him.

“can i make you feel good, baby?” joe asked you, his lips ghosting against yours in a way that had every inch of your being begging for more.

“please,” you nodded.

he started to suck on the skin on your neck because he knew how much it made you squirm. once he was satisfied that he’d marked you up he began to kiss down your body. he pulled your tank top up and over your head and sucked in a breath at your exposed breasts. joe wasted no time sucking one of the stiff peaks into his mouth. you softly moaned at the sensation. no matter how many times you found yourself in this situation, joe playing with your body, you could never get enough. his other hand tweaked your unoccupied nipple drawing even more moans from your throat. your hands were planted firmly on his shoulders while you laid there in pure bliss. he let go of one nipple with an obscene pop and quickly found purchase on the other nipple. the cold air hitting your spit-slick nipple made goosebumps arise on your skin.

“let me see how wet you are,” joe grumbled. he kissed down your body to the waistband of your poor excuse for shorts. he tugged on them so you lifted up so he could pull them down your legs. “shit, no panties?” he asked when he realized the only thing that was shielding him from your pussy was the flimsy fabric.

“i knew you were coming home, joey,” you told the blue eyed man who was between your legs.

“yeah? you were ready for me?” he asked, using his finger tips to give the insides of your thighs those featherlight touches that made you ache.

“i’m always ready for you.”

joe felt his dick twitch in his boxers. he focused his attention back on your wet pussy. it was glistening with arousal. your clit swollen and begging to be touched. your little hole winking in anticipation. you whined at joe, wanting him to do something—anything. he kissed all around where you needed him the most; he was teasing you in the worst way possible. you whined again. this time pushing your hips up toward him hoping he’d finally eat you out. instead, he pinned your hips down to the mattress.

“relax,” joe said.

he moved his hands back between your legs. this time though, he used his calloused fingertips to spread your lips, “i know i say it all the time. but fuck baby, your pussy is so fucking pretty.”

your cheeks warmed at the dirty compliment. although you didn’t really get a chance to fully bask in it because he was pushing one of his long fingers inside of your pussy. your walls fluttered happily around it, sucking it in with urgency. he added another finger, scissoring you open for his dick. he brought his lips to your clit to give it a soft kiss and you felt electricity shoot through your body. he took the swollen bud between his lips, sucking on it. your hands went to push his head deeper into your needy pussy.

“that feels good, joey,” you hummed.

you grind your pussy all over his tongue, using his mouth to bring yourself to an orgasm. joe laid there pliantly, letting you use him because he loved the way you looked right now. he hooked his fingers inside of you, his mouth still busy pleasuring your clit. you whined out, your chest rising and falling in a quick pattern that made joe aware of how close you were to cumming.

“oh my fucking god!” you cried out. you dug your nails into your boyfriends shoulders as your orgasm came crashing down. you squeezed around his fingers as you creamed all over them.

you relaxed into the plush sheets of the bed, completely in awe of how quickly you had just come undone. you didn’t know why you were still in shock after all this time. joe knew your body. he knew what made you tick. what made you cum all over him with just a few measly pumps of his fingers and flicks of his tongue.

“taste yourself,” he said, bringing his cream-covered fingers to your lips. you opened your mouth and sucked his fingers clean, moaning at the heady taste of your cum.

“want your dick in me. please,” you begged him. you felt heat pooling in your stomach once more. you were ready to give him however many orgasms that he could coax out of you.

you tugged his briefs down until his dick flopped out. you couldn’t help but to moan at the sight of it. the tip was swollen and red with precum just pooling, waiting to be sucked off. you took one delicate finger and swiped the clear liquid off and promptly placed that same finger in your mouth. joe watched you with hooded eyes, his dick twitching with excitement. you wrapped your much smaller hand around him and began pumping him. you never broke eye contact with him while you jerked him off. you watched as he fell apart from your touch, his eyes glossed over in pure bliss

“that feel good, joey?” you asked him.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” he said for what felt like that millionth time tonight. but each time he said it you felt butterflies float around in your tummy.

“can you fuck me? i’ve been such a good girl,” you said. your voice was so soft and so pretty and so fucking submissive.

joe leaned down to capture your lips in a filthy kiss. he pushed your hand away from his dick, opting for his own to line up at your entrance. inch by inch he pushed into you causing you to gasp against his lips. you were sure you could feel him in your stomach and that feeling alone had tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. joe pulled away from your lips but not before giving you a gentle peck. he started off slow; he rolled his hips coaxing tiny gasps from you when you felt the tip of his dick rub against your sweet spot.

“you’re so tight, mama,” joe said.

“all for you, daddy,” you replied airily, already reeling from how good your boyfriend felt inside of you.

joe let a throaty moan spill past his lips at the nickname before speaking, “i’m gonna make you a mama tonight for real if you don’t chill out.”

“please,” you begged, squeezing around him. “we would make such a pretty baby, joey.”

he closed his eyes to compose himself because he was sure he was gonna break you if he didn’t. he rolled his hips again, knocking any other bratty comments out of your throat. he opened his eyes to see you below him. you looked fucked out: pupils blown wide, lips swollen, and a thin sheen of sweat. joe grabbed hold of your hips to anchor your body to the bed as he began to give you those strokes that had you crying out to him. joe looked down to where your bodies were so beautifully connected to marvel at the creamy ring that began to form.

“fuck…” he trailed, his eyes still transfixed on the obscene sight. “you missed me this much?” he teased you.

you could only give a small nod; you were so lost in the pleasure. but so was joe. his eyes were screwed tight at just how good you felt wrapped around him, so wet, tight, and warm. he fluttered his eyes back open though to look down at you.

“i love you so fucking much,” you told him, voice strained with lust. and fuck, he could’ve knocked you up right there. your big, brown, glossed-over eyes met his and the words that came out of your pretty, kiss-bitten lips next made him stop moving inside of you out of fear that he’d cum too early: “w-wanna have your baby.”

you whined at him. you started moving your own hips to get some type of friction but he stopped your movements.

“you’re gonna make me cum early if you don’t chill out,” joe explained to you. but his words meant nothing to you in that moment and you told him as much.

“but that’s what i want you to do, daddy,” you said. “want you to cum in me, please?” you pleaded with the man above you.

“shit,” he mumbled under his breath. he started moving again, this time he was pounding you. your eyes rolled into the back of your head because you could feel his tip bumping against that spot that was gonna make you cream all over his dick.

you couldn’t speak or even think for that matter. the only thing that mattered in that moment was joe. you wrapped your thighs around his waist, pulling him impossibly close just how he had done earlier. you gasped into his ear at how deep you could feel him inside of you. joe buried his face in your neck and nipped at your skin to add another hickey to the already blemished flesh. having sex with him was always like this, full of passion and unadulterated love.

“i love you so fucking much, too,” joe murmured into your neck, replying to your statement from earlier.

your orgasm began to sneak up on you. your tummy began to tingle and you could feel the way your walls started to flutter around joe’s dick. he groaned at the sensation, his hips stuttering when he felt it.

“you gonna cum, baby?” he asked you. you didn’t have to answer because the way you felt wrapped around him gave him all the confirmation he needed. “cum for me and i promise i’ll give you a baby.”

that’s all it took for you to let that band in your belly snap and your orgasm wash over you, “fuck, joey! fuck!” were the only words you could say as your walls spasmed around him. almost simultaneously, joe let his own orgasm take over. rope after rope of his seed filled you to the brim, making good on his promise to at least try to get you pregnant.

“you’re so fucking perfect.”

[jesuistrestriste]

crybaby!art donaldson is a handful.

the tears are practically nonstop sometimes, but it’s not like he can really control them. they come and go as they please; art is just a pretty pawn in his brain’s sick game of spiraling emotions.

he cries when he thinks you’re mad at him, he cries when he thinks you’re disappointed in him, he weeps when he’s frustrated with himself, and he sobs when he’s overworked.

its all very predictable. art has lots of physical tells that inadvertently allow you to pick up on the instances when he’s feeling upset enough for the tears to start flowing. he usually gets very quiet, his cheeks and ears turn bright pink, and his bottom lip wobbles while he averts his gaze.

anyone who only knew how much art cries would assume that he’s just a high-strung, emotional guy who gets sad over trivial things.

but it’s more than that in some situations.

he knows you secretly like when his cheeks are streaked with wetness. he knows you like it when he’s hiccuping and sniffling and looking up at you with big pleading eyes, silently asking for your forgiveness or your attention. he knows it gets you off.

so..

he also cries when you tease him in bed. when your fingers ghost over where he needs them most; squirming and bucking and begging you to stop as he trembles. but he never truly wants you to.

and he cries when you’re playing with his spent cock after he’s already come. when it’s too sensitive for it to feel good anymore. when all it feels like is wave after wave of intense prickly, tickling heat that he can’t get away from.

and he cries when he’s inside you; thrusting himself in and out and against your sticky inner walls, whimpering into your neck repeatedly about how much he loves you. he’ll reach for your hands and clutch them like a damn lifeline. “i love you, i love you, i adore you, i need you—don’t leave me”

it doesn’t matter if he’s exhausted by the end of it from all from the sobbing, art only cares about the way you take care of him afterwards.

your hands on his cheeks, thumbing away the tears, while you remind him how precious he is to you. holding him close in your arms and stroking his blonde hair while he recovers. it’s all he craves.

as long as you love him back, he’s sated.

he’ll cry as much as you want.

[nadvs]

watch and learn (part seven)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The next morning, you sleep in, recovering from the party. Your head is still foggy as you scroll through your phone in bed, thinking about last night.

You spent a lot of time with Blake. He was nice and charming and all you did was talk and share innocent touches. He’s nothing but green flags.

Yet your mind kept reminding you of Rafe. And it kept replaying the sight of him kissing another girl.

Something between you two shifted the other day, when you dropped by after his dad’s visit. You agreed that you were friends. And then did something that friends definitely don’t do.

Then, of course, he took a few days to be a jerk. But last night, he mustered up a sorry for you, flirting with you again.

It’s almost like he’s leaving breadcrumbs, making you think he has feelings, with the possessiveness and the compliments and the looks he gives you. But time and time and time again, Rafe proves to you that he’s a douchebag who’s not looking for anything more than sex.

And neither are you, you remind yourself. Not with Rafe. He would break your heart if given the chance. And you’re not giving him the chance.

You see a text from Rafe from a couple of hours ago: you up?

You reply: i am now.

You open Instagram to see that Blake posted a story a few minutes ago. It’s a photo of a sign on the side of a building. He’s at a paintball range with his frat brothers. It must be another bonding event.

The text on the photo reads: let’s goooo red team.

You reply to the story: putting all my money on the red team.

He responds: I’ll win for you :)

Rafe has never played paintball before, but it couldn’t have come at a better time. His gun is loaded with blue pellets and he has Blake in his sights before the starting bell even rings.

This will be the best way to release his anger over the fact that he’s losing you. Well, other than getting naked with you and fucking until he can’t think straight. But you weren’t answering your phone this morning. So, this’ll do.

The field is vast under the cloudy sky, cluttered full of obstacles and barriers and embankments. When the game starts, Rafe has one goal and one goal only.

He hates how you were smiling at Blake last night. He hates how you touched his shoulder. How you laughed. How close you were.

Mere minutes into the game, he’s behind a colorfully splattered wall and finally finds Blake in his crosshairs. His finger presses down on the trigger over and over and over again, each pop loud and echoing, coating the front of Blake’s vest with bright blue drops of paint.

“Jesus, Rafe, I think you got him, man!” one of his teammates shouts with a laugh.

Even though one of his buddies on the red team nails Rafe in his arm a couple of times near the end of the round, the game ends in a blue team victory.

As the boys make their way back into the building, Blake shoves Rafe’s shoulder.

“The fuck was that, Cameron?” Blake asks, pointing to his vest, sheathed in blue. His smile is wide, but his tone is sharp. He’s trying to hide it, but he seems actually pissed off. Good.

“My bad, man,” Rafe half-chuckles, lifting his helmet off his head. “Got lost in the game. I love to win.”

The high from winning this stupid game is so intensely gratifying that Rafe wants to keep beating Blake in everything. Including in getting your attention.

When Rafe checks his phone as they leave the range, he sees you finally responded. He’s craving you now, but he’ll see you in a few hours at tonight’s party. And he wants Blake to see you with him.

He was stupid to think he could stay away from you. He’s going to see you as many times as you let him before your touches with Blake have more meaning behind them.

The “anything but clothes” party is slated to start at the Sigma Chi house in a few minutes. You and Liv decide to show up right on time to hang out with the guys and drink before the liquor runs out.

You made a stop at a party store off-campus to buy rolls of caution tape together, deciding to wrap the bright yellow nylon into haphazard tube tops and mini skirts, stuck together with clear packing tape. You’re careful so that the sticky tape is only on the caution tape, not directly touching any skin at all.

When you enter the house, you follow the noise in the kitchen. A group of frat boys are in the dining room, setting up the keg and putting out cups.

Blake and Rafe are standing with four other guys, talking as they set up.

Rafe should’ve put more effort into what he wore. He has a towel around his hips and when you walk in wearing next to nothing, he regrets it immediately. A boner would be way too fucking obvious.

Blake greets you with a side-hug and Rafe cracks his knuckles under the table.

“Hey, how was paintball?” you ask. “Did you win?”

“Lost and I’m wounded.” Blake’s wearing a plastic bag over his chest and another around his hips. He puts his hand over his sternum, the bag crinkling beneath his fingers.

“What the hell happened?” you laugh, placing your hand on his. He pretends to wince in pain when you touch him, making you laugh again. The sight makes Rafe scowl.

“Rafe went all Scarface on him,” Sam says. You look to Rafe, and at the same time, glass shatters in the kitchen behind you.

“Shit!” a guy shouts.

“So glad tomorrow’s thing is outside,” Blake mumbles. “This place is a mess and it’s only gonna get worse.”

“What’s tomorrow?” you ask.

“Family day,” Sam says. “We’re having a barbecue.”

“Do you guys have something going on every weekend?” Liv asks.

“Pretty much,” Blake in a bragging tone.

“And when do you study?” you say.

“During the week, fun police,” Blake mumbles with a playful smile. You hate the label and think back to a conversation you had with him over text about nicknames.

“Don’t call me that, babe,” you respond. Blake told you before that he loathes being called babe.

Rafe doesn’t know you’re saying it ironically. And he’s trying not to lose his mind. He looks down at his beer and takes another sip.

A moment passes and he doesn’t notice that Blake is trying to get his attention until he realizes seven pairs of eyes are on him.

“What?” Rafe asks.

“Who are you bringing tomorrow?” Blake repeats.

“I’m not coming.” Rafe can’t imagine even mentioning the event to anyone in his family.

“What? Why not?” Blake says. “I need to meet who raised you to be so fucking competitive.”

Rafe looks away the same way he did when you confronted his dad for yelling at him. It’s not exactly annoyance in his expression, like you’re used to seeing. It’s discomfort. Embarrassment.

You don’t want anyone to grill him. Not about his family. You can still hear the way his father snapped at him, asked what he was crying for.

“Sounds like you’re just mad that you’re such an easy target,” you say to Blake, primarily to take everyone’s eyes off of Rafe.

You earn a few jeers, heads turning back in your direction. Rafe’s eyes find yours and you glance at him to see a softened expression, the hard lines in his face suddenly gone.

“I’d like to see you try to play paintball,” Blake says.

“Yeah, you’re really selling it,” you respond sarcastically, snapping your gaze back to meet his.

“What other events do you guys have planned?” Liv asks.

As Blake goes into the schedule for the rest of the year - including a community service drive, a Sadie Hawkins formal, and a camping trip - Rafe can’t keep his eyes off of you.

He can’t forget how you stood up to his father, a total stranger, and told him to calm down. He can’t forget how happy your silly little gift made him.

Maybe you were just flirting with Blake, but he wonders if you purposely took the attention off of him, knowing what you know about his family.

You two are friends that have great sex, he knows that, but he’s staring at you like you’re more. You can be irritating and a tight-ass, but you’re kind and thoughtful, too.

Rafe looks away. These thoughts make him uneasy all over. He’s not a feelings kind of guy. And Blake is so obviously your type and Rafe is nothing like him.

He’s not stupid. Anything more than sex between you two would be ridiculous.

The house fills up with partygoers quickly, air thickening, music loud and conversations even louder.

Later on in the night, Rafe’s buzzed and standing by the keg, watching you dance with your friend. The way you roll your hips reminds him of how you move when you’re on top of him and he needs to force himself to look away before he gets hard. Again.

Eventually, he notices you head towards the back of the house alone and he takes the opportunity to talk to you.

When you leave the bathroom and head down the dark hallway back towards the party, you notice Rafe leaning by the wall, a beer bottle in his hand. There’s only a handful of people around, engaging in quiet, private conversation as the music throbs around you.

“Hey,” he says. He wishes he thought of something more clever to say, but he’s pretty close to being drunk.

It’s kind of sweet that he’s waiting here for you. But then you remind yourself he’s just horny.

“Hey,” you say, eyes flitting down his athletic body and to the navy blue towel sitting at his hips. “Pretty lazy of you to use a towel.”

“Nah, it’s smart,” he quips. “That tape is perfect for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you say.

“You can read, can’t you?” Rafe simply says, his hand ghosting over the bold CAUTION on your chest. You look down at the way his long fingers just barely brush over your breasts, imagining the way they were massaging you earlier this week.

The reminder sends a swirl of warm passion in your core. You want him again. And again. And again.

“Are you trying to say I’m dangerous? I’m not the one attacking people during an innocent game of paintball.”

“I got hit, too, okay?” Rafe complains. He brings his right arm forward, showing you his flexed bicep.

“I don’t see anything,” you laugh.

“These red marks are turning into bruises,” he says, pointing to his skin. “I’ll need you to take care of me.”

“I think you’re just being a fuckboy,” you respond.

Rafe’s smirk is playful and inviting and you realize you’re only inches away from each other, eyes connected and smiles mirrored.

You want to see him naked again. Neither of you had any pointers last time you hooked up, but that doesn’t mean you’re done learning, right?

“I’ve never gotten a ‘you up?’ text at ten in the morning,” you say. Admittedly, you were a little dejected that he didn’t reply to your message earlier today.

“You woke up late,” Rafe says, eyebrows quirking up for a second. “When’d you even get home?”

In reality, he wants to know if you were with Blake. He didn’t see you at last night’s party after he made out with a girl just to unsuccessfully make you jealous. Maybe you messed around with Blake and stayed up late with him.

“I don’t remember,” you admit with a defeated laugh. “I think I need to cool it on the partying. You frat boys never stop. I can’t believe how many things you guys have going on.”

Rafe breathes a sardonic chuckle, looking down, and you’re immediately reminded of tomorrow’s event.

Just like that, the air between you shifts. You’re both thinking of the same thing. You’re painfully aware of it.

Silence settles between you and you nervously scratch your arm.

“I wouldn’t want to bring him, either,” you finally say. Rafe’s eyes meet yours. He instantly knows you’re talking about his father.

Now he’s sure you weren’t just carrying on conversation with Blake earlier. You purposely took the attention off of him. Because you’re friends. Friends help each other.

“Yeah,” is all Rafe can say.

“Did you…” you say softly. “Do you not have anyone else you’d want to come?”

Rafe thinks of his life back home. His father, who never shies away from expressing his disappointment. His step-mother, who he has no relationship with. Sarah, who’s the clear favorite. Wheezie, who Rafe actually likes and sort of misses, but wouldn’t be able to visit on her own.

“No,” he admits. “It’s… I don’t have that kind of family.”

“Must be why you’re into this whole frat thing,” you say. You can’t stop yourself from trying to understand his complexities.

Rafe didn’t think about it that way. But the sense of camaraderie he has with his frat brothers, except for one in particular, does give him a sense of belonging he’s been chasing forever. He didn’t even realize it until you said it.

But that’s what you do. You make him think and feel things he hasn’t before and it’s so uncomfortable and exciting at the same time.

“You’re…” Rafe tugs at his earlobe. “You’re a really nice person.”

“What?” You laugh in disbelief. Is he being sweet to you outside of the bedroom?

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he says. “When he asked me why I’m not going tomorrow, you changed the subject.”

He can’t say Blake’s name.

“Guilty,” you say. You settle into eye contact that’s unlike anything you two have shared before. Rafe huffs, wanting to force away the tension sitting in his chest.

“I think you’re into this whole frat thing, too, by the way,” he says. He leans even closer to you, blue eyes focused on your lips.

“Not at all,” you joke, shaking your head. “I hate you guys.”

“Really,” Rafe mutters, his tone low. “Even me?”

“Especially you.”

“You don’t remember what you said last time we fucked? When I asked if I could put it in?”

Your skin burns as you think back to the way he asked you if you were ready before burying into you.

“You must be thinking about another girl,” you say. He won’t even entertain the thought.

“You said please,” he rasps.

“Well, at least I have manners,” you reply, looking him in the eye as anticipation curls in your stomach, refusing to shy away.

“You gonna beg me for it again?”

“I did not beg,” you respond.

You want to tease him even more, tell him you thought you were experts now, so what’s the point of hooking up anymore? But you don’t need it to be instructional to have sex with him. He doesn’t seem to need it, either.

“Don’t tell me you’re still shy about liking it.” His smirk is taunting. This cracks you, a smile spreading on your face again, your eyes trailing down his bare chest.

“Maybe,” you tease. It’s a lie. You’re not shy at all anymore. The sense of shame you felt around sex before is gone. At least with Rafe, it has.

“How can you be shy when you’re wearing that?” Rafe asks. “Showing fucking everything.”

“You’re one to talk,” you say, nose crinkling. The way you cock your head as you gaze at his body, your lashes fluttering as you blink, makes his gut warm and his groin tighten. Wow. He really doesn’t even need to touch you to get hard.

“And don’t act like you don’t like my outfit,” you say, meeting his eyes again. You shock yourself with your forwardness. He looks pleasantly surprised, too.

You hear your name being shouted. Liv rushes towards you, hands pressed over her chest.

“My tape broke,” she laughs. “I almost flashed everyone.”

“Really?” you gasp. Rafe is annoyed that you got interrupted, but he finds that he really likes what caring for somebody looks like on you. Your eyes deepen. Your brows lower. Your guard is down. You’re stunning.

“We should’ve brought extra tape,” Liv says.

“We can borrow a shirt,” you suggest. “Let’s find Blake.”

Rafe is seething. Blake. Of fucking course.

You offer Rafe a tight smile before taking your friend’s hand and walking in front of her to shield her.

When you find Blake, he leads you and Liv upstairs to his room, scrambling through his dresser to find a shirt for Liv.

“I’m not gonna get kicked out for wearing clothes, am I? It’s against the rules,” Liv says.

“No, only ‘cause you’re friends with fun police over here,” Blake replies, smiling over his shoulder as he hands a black shirt to Liv. “Special privileges.”

“I told you not to call me that,” you say with a laugh. Liv pulls the shirt over her head.

“Thanks!” she calls as she walks out of the room, a grin on her face. You know she’s purposely leaving you alone with Blake.

You meet Blake’s eyes, standing in the middle of his quiet, private room.

“Study fort’s gone,” you notice, looking down at his bare floor.

“Oh. Yeah,” he says stiffly. It’s awkward between you and you’re not sure why. “You look…”

Blake doesn’t finish his sentence. You knew he was a bit on the shy side, but he’s actually nervous.

You would normally find it endearing. But because of the intoxicating way Rafe was talking to you downstairs, how he’s so unafraid of telling you how attracted he is to you, you feel tense around Blake for the first time.

Still, intrigue coarses through you. You like him. You want him to flirt with you and to touch you and to finally kiss you. But he’s still.

Rafe spots your friend in the crowd with a t-shirt on. And you’re not next to her. He pushes through people to stand beside Liv and ask her where you are.

“Upstairs with Blake,” Liv simply responds. Rafe glances up the staircase, lips twisting as he nods. He stalks away, storming through the house with no real idea of where to go.

He paces around for a few minutes. He wants to rush upstairs and hurt Blake. Badly. Without a paintball gun this time. The thought of you being up there in his room, of his hands on you, of him on top of you… It’s too much. He’s grinding his teeth so hard that it hurts.

Rafe has had enough. He heads back towards the front of the house, not sure what the hell he’ll do if he walks in on Blake on top of you, but before he can go upstairs, he sees you in the crowd, chatting with your friend.

“I left you alone up there for a reason,” Liv says quietly when you approach her.

“Oh, I’m aware,” you laugh. “But the vibe was weird, so I left. I think we were both nervous.”

After Blake couldn’t finish his sentence, you thanked him for helping your friend and split.

“Do you not like him?” Liv asks.

You do. But you think you like someone else, too. And it’s terrifying.

Rafe weaves through the crowds, approaching you, his fingers gently wrapping around your wrist. You watch him duck to speak into your ear.

“Leave with me,” he says so only you can hear him over the music. You look at Liv, who has a sly, knowing expression on her face.

“I can’t abandon my friend just to hook up with you,” you say to him. A painful pang of rejection twists inside him.

“But do you want to?” Rafe asks. He needs to be sure. What if your next words are that you’re with Blake now?

Your pulse is racing. The promise of another night with Rafe is electrifying.

“Yes,” you admit. He smiles to himself, pulling back to look at Liv.

“You gonna be okay if she leaves?” Rafe says, tilting his head towards you.

“Of course, if she wants to,” Liv replies with an amused laugh.

Rafe pulls you towards him, out of the crowd. And for once, he’s actually glad to see Blake, who’s standing by the keg with a few friends.

He wraps his arm around your waist, mumbling to you that he’s going to rip that stupid tape off of you, as he glares at Blake, who’s staring at you two with a disconcerted grimace.

He leads you out of the rowdy house, grip tight on you as if he could lose you again.

The second you’re in Rafe’s dorm room, his hands are on your ass, fingers dipping under the tape. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, kissing him heatedly as you stand by his bed.

You can smell his cologne and his shampoo as his tongue runs over yours.

“You know everyone was looking at you tonight, right?” he says between kisses.

“No,” you scoff. While he’s helped you gain some confidence, you can’t imagine thinking of yourself as the most desired girl in a room.

“I told you not to do that,” he says against your lips. You feel the nylon around your ass lift off your skin as he tugs it away, pulling apart the material, tape unsticking.

“Do what?” you mutter. He grips your ass, feeling the fabric of your underwear on his palms. You lower a hand to undo the knot keeping up the towel on him.

“You pretend like you’re not beautiful and it pisses me off,” he says. Beautiful. He said hot before. But not beautiful. He never used that word with you. “How hard do I have to fuck you for you to get it?”

“Rafe,” you gasp with a giggle.

“How hard?” he asks. “Until you can’t talk?”

His towel drops and he kisses your neck, tugging at the tape bound around your chest. You shift to wrap your hand around his length over his boxers, aching for the feeling of him inside of you.

Rafe loves that you touch him like this now, without any hesitation. He rips the tape off of your chest, his fingers burning.

While you wore panties just in case, you’re glad you went without a bra simply because of the way Rafe breathes when he looks down to see your bare chest.

He fondles your tits with eager, rough movements, squeezing as he clenches his jaw.

“Every guy was staring at you, but only I get to do this.” His lips are against your neck, breath hot.

You tense for a second. He shouldn’t say shit like this. His words are possessive and tender and way too fucking heavy.

But you push yourself out of your head, focusing on how you feel physically, forgetting the emotions that have slowly been tacking themselves onto you like the crumpled tape on the floor.

You dip your hand into his boxers, wrapping your hand around his girth. Rafe inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut as you stroke him slowly. You drag your hand to his tip, feeling the warm precum and spreading it with your thumb.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“You like that?” you whisper with a smile. It’s exciting talking like this. You were always quiet when hooking up with a guy, but Rafe has pushed you completely out of your shell.

“Get on my bed,” he says gruffly, pressing your hips back. You lie down, watching his cock spring out of his boxers when he tugs them off.

Rafe almost asks to skip the condom, but it feels too intimate. Too serious. And he’s sure you’d say no.

You pull your panties off as he rolls on the latex and gets on his knees, sinking onto the mattress, hands gripping your ankles. He shifts and rests your ankles on his broad shoulders, his hands skimming down your legs.

He drags a thumb over your wet clit, gazing down at you with yearning as he spreads your slick arousal over you. You moan at the sensation, realizing just how sensitive you are from how long it’s been and how much you missed him.

“You’re fucking soaked,” Rafe rasps. “Who got you like this, baby?”

“You did,” you reply. The words coming out of your mouth are so fucking soothing. He can’t think about anyone else doing this to you. Only him.

Rafe pulls his hand off of you to grip your thigh and holds his cock at its base with his other hand, tapping it over your middle. You look at him, eyes meeting in an exquisite, mutual longing.

“Say please,” he teases.

“You say please,” you reply, smirking. Rafe shakes his head in disbelief and awe and desire, his hair falling over his forehead.

He can’t wait. He guides himself into you, slipping in so easily, feeling just how drenched and tight and warm you are. He groans as you take him in with a deep breath, tilting to feel the curve of his cock.

“That’s so fucking nice,” he whispers, watching himself push into you. “Your pussy is so fucking nice.”

His fingers dig into your thigh as he pulls back and pushes in again. You throw your head back as he shoves himself into you, filling you completely, the pressure hard and incredible.

Rafe’s thumb is on your clit again, rubbing in circles as he thrusts, making you tremble. Your mouth is agape, your hands above your head as he pleasures you.

It’s such a phenomenal view to him. Pleasure written on your face, your tits bouncing, your chest heaving, your body jolting.

You feel your stomach tighten, the rising sensation making you moan. Rafe starts to go harder, rubbing faster, a smile curling on his lips as he watches you.

“I…” you breathe. “Fuck, I…”

“Can’t talk?” he rasps, amused. You bite your bottom lip and moan a giggle, willing yourself to look at him before he has to tell you to.

His gaze is piercing into you as you feel yourself dissolve into ecstasy, your body going numb before it heats with the most amazing feeling you’ve ever had.

Rafe feels you clenching around his cock and he leans over to get as deep into you as possible, your legs bending as his shoulders push you forward.

After you come down from your orgasm, he places his hand on your cheek, dipping his thumb into your mouth.

You stare at him as he drives into you and you wrap your lips around his thumb, tasting yourself. Rafe might just go crazy. You take him so much better than he’s ever had before.

He tightens and you watch the euphoria wash over his face, his brows furrowing and his lips parting. You love that you can do this to him, that a man so commanding and dominant and brash crumbles like this when he’s inside you.

He cums in hard pulses, hips bucking with every jerk, seeing stars. When he slowly pulls out, you close your eyes, sighing in pleasure.

Your palms rest over your eyes, feeling high off the feeling as you feel him shift off the mattress. When you catch your breath, you open your eyes to see Rafe offering you a towel.

“You have fun?” he asks. You can tell he’s trying to do the whole aftercare thing, but because it’s not genuine, you’d rather not play along.

It’s clear he wants you to leave with the way he’s holding out the towel, surely wishing you’d cover up and go. You’re not surprised. You sit up, taking the towel and wrapping it around your body.

“C-minus,” you say.

“What?”

“Kidding,” you laugh. You stand to leave and decide to let him deal with the mess of caution tape on his floor, desperate to be alone so you can pull yourself together.

You go so suddenly that Rafe watches his door shut with confusion. He thought you’d wipe yourself down with the towel he gave you, maybe sit a while with him.

He oddly wanted you to stay a little bit. He liked joking around with you earlier tonight. It was fun.

But you were so eager to go. Probably because Rafe is the kind of guy you fuck and forget, and Blake is the kind of guy you make love to and stick around for.

He knows that he’s in a competition he’ll eventually lose because he can’t offer you a relationship. You said yourself he’d be the worst boyfriend ever the night he told you not to cuddle him.

But he’ll happily take these nights with you for as long as possible. And he’ll keep fighting for as many as he can.

When you make it to your dorm, you sit on your bed, breathless. Just when you think the sex can’t get any better with Rafe, it does.

He almost disappointed you with his lack of emotion afterwards, but you’re glad you didn’t give him the power to. He’ll always let you down in that department. As long as you keep any feelings for him at bay, you know you’ll be fine.

After you feel a bit calmer, you check your phone to see five texts.

Liv: didn’t get a chance to tell you but rafe is down BAD for you

Liv: when i told him you were upstairs with blake he looked like he was about to kill someone

Liv: hope you have fun lol :)

Liv: i sure am… i made out with sam after you left… oops

Then you see a block of text in the next notification.

Blake: Gotta be honest. I wanted to kiss you when we were in my room but you make me really nervous haha. Can I take you on a date? A real one. Not just a study date lol. All good if you’re not into it. Let me know.

(part eight)

author’s note: thank you anon for this iconic idea!!

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[23lvrs]

nct febuary boys twt links

nct x reader 18+

doyoung was a bit worried you would forget his birthday but he soon found out the surprise you planned for him because you’re so bad at hiding stuff he thought it was so cute he wanted to make you feel nice before the surprise as a thank you

jisung always gives you princess treatment so for his birthday you decided you would be doing all the work while he lays down enjoying you riding

johnny planned on making you scream his name all night for his special day he knew exactly how to do it

jaehyun is in love with your tits so of course one of your gifts to him for this special day had to have them involved

jungwoo was so happy on his day because he was in you all day his favorite place to be

ten knew you were truly going to make his day so good when he woke up to you going cray for his fingers

a/n: anon ur so SMART for this idea like girl this is the inspo i needed thank u<3 also happy birthday to all my february babies >.<

masterlist for more of my work twitter for extra & early content

likes, cmts & shares appreciated :)

venmo me here or cash app me here if you’d like to support me or my work

[gracesimp]

Say It

tenth doctor x fem!reader

Warnings: smut. praise, edging, dom!doctor.

MINORS DNI

First time ever writing smut. oh god.

Summary: After feeling insecure about her body, (previous chubby!reader, but can be read by non-chubby reader I think), the Doctor shows Y/n just how much he loves it.

"Say it." He commands, voice thick. Y/n's mouth stays open as she looks up to the ceiling, her thick thighs wrapped around the Doctor as he thrusts into her pussy. "Now."

"I-I can't." She manages to cry out, eyes closing tightly as the knot in her belly tightens. The Doctor growls, digging his nails into her hips, the mixture of the spark of pain and pure pleasure making her clench around him.

"Be a good girl and say it." He grunts as his hips thrust harder and faster. Y/n moans loudly as he brushes against her clit with every push. The noise is probably enough to wake Rose from down the corridor, but if anything, that just motivates the Doctor more.

"Please, I-" She's on the verge of coming, and he knows, so he slows down.

"Say it!" He yells, his hips slowing to an almost stop, causing a whine of desperation and protest to leave Y/n's lips. "If you don't say it, I won't let you cum."

"Oh, my-" Y/n whimpers, her face heating as she shyly avoids his eyes. He removes one hand from her hip and forcefully turns her head to meet his.

"I'll stop." He threatens.

In an act of desperation as the feeling begins to dissipate with his halted movements, Y/n quickly mutters the words he had been demanding of her since the beginning. Since he kissed her neck, then her belly, then her thighs. When he mumbled while sucking her clit, to now as he demands her to say it as he pushes into her so deep. "I'm perfect."

To taunt her further, he leans down, still refusing to move his hips as his cock was buried in her soaking sex. "Couldn't hear you."

"I'm perfect!" She screams. Begs. He smirks, finally satisfied as he begins to move again, causing a gasp to leave both of their lips.

"That's it," He praises softly, giving her a quick kiss before resuming to his vigorous thrusting. "such a good girl. Well done, my angel. And you know what happens to good girls, don't you?" He teases, their skin slapping and headboard banging filling the room. "They get rewarded."

With that, he uses his fingers to rub her clit as he fucks her. She moans loudly, tits bouncing with every hard plunge of his cock deep into her. "Cum for me, angel." He whispers, the feeling of her clenching around him urging him to his own release. "Fuck, angel, cum for me, you can do it."

[hencheri]

18+ minors dni.

pairing: kun x fem!reader (ft. ten)

warnings: noncon, manipulation, explicit sexual content, brief physical abuse.

wc: 1.1k

inspired by this story from @riizeblr ! the og idea is so good — cr. to her <3 (hope the tag is okay!)

Kun just can’t stop. Well, that’s what he convinces himself. That your little cunt is simply too tight for him to stop fucking it. Too warm and wet. 

He would have preferred if Ten wasn’t there, too, but he guesses he couldn’t do this without him. He’s the only one who understands him. Or, at least, who wouldn’t judge him for having normal desires. 

That’s how he felt when he saw you in the hotel lobby. He felt desire, a strong want to have you in some way. 

You were speaking to the receptionist, probably booking a room. You had spoken in English, and when he heard that, he somewhat felt a little disappointed. Yes, he can understand a little English, but he struggles a lot. 

How could he have you if he can’t communicate with you?

With Ten’s help that he so generously offered, seeing his friend’s expression when looking at you. It was blatantly obvious that he was attracted to you and wanted to do something about it. 

That’s how you ended up here, on the floor of their hotel room with Kun’s body between your legs.

Ten’s easy going, so friendly and charming. He only needed to smile at you and use kind words to lure you in while Kun stood beside, unable to control his staring. 

So naive, he thought as you followed Ten inside, but it worked in his favour. He definitely owes his friend after that one. 

Kun reaches down to kiss you, forcing your mouth open and exploring it with his tongue, muffling your noises at the same time. You squirm underneath him, trying to thrash your arms away, but Kun holds them down firmly on each side of your head. He pays it no mind. He’s been anticipating this moment since he’s laid eyes on you.

As he pulls away, your lips all swollen and glossy, Ten chuckles, prompted on the bed that you’re laying in front of. He laughs lightly, like it’s really funny to see one of his closest friends use a poor foreigner girl for his own pleasure. 

You cry, still trying to pull on your wrists, glancing at Ten, eyes clearly fearful and desperate. He smiles in a way that seems innocent , but you know better than to trust this man, now. His intentions are just purely evil. 

Kun then mumbles something incomprehensible to you, his face really close to yours, slowly thrusting his cock into you. 

“He wants you to look at him,” Ten explains, raising his eyebrows to encourage you to do just that. 

You sob, reluctantly turning your head, meeting the eyes of the man who’s forcing his cock between your walls without any remorse. 

His floppy bangs brushes your face, making you frown at the ticklish feeling. His mouth is fully open, letting out heavy breaths that directly hit you in the face. You quietly whimper, holding eye-contact because that’s what he wants you to do. 

You keep clenching around him, and Kun just can’t get enough. Voluntarily or not, he loves feeling you tightening around his girth, makes him believe you want this as much as he does. What a pretty little thing you are. 

Kun says something else, his voice rumbling through your ear, and you know he addresses you, talks to you, but Ten has to translate for him in order for you to understand, to do what he wishes. 

Ten chuckles again, registering Kun’s words before translating them in English for you. “Call him gege,” he instructs. 

That’s what makes you break eye-contact with Kun to his dismay, glancing at Ten in utter confusion. You shake your head as a no, and that upsets him. 

Ten reaches your face and slaps you, which inevitably makes your head turn to the side, a cry escaping your lips. It wasn’t as hard as you anticipated it to be, but it was sharp. Enough to make you scrunch your eyes shut. 

The thrusts have suddenly stopped and when you open your eyes back, Kun shoots a glare at Ten, clearly not appreciating what he just did. 

“What? You want her to do what you want or not?” He questions his friend. “I’m just motivating her, that’s all,” Ten groans, defending his actions. 

“Don’t-” Kun begins, searching for his words, “touch her.”

Ten only rolls his eyes, “whatever.” He looks back at you, now seeming more annoyed than playful. “Come on; gege, it isn’t difficult.”

You hate him. You hate the two of them.

As you face Kun, he gradually goes back to his pace, continuing to fuck your pussy, lewd, squelching noises echoing in the room. His hold around your wrists seems to tighten, moving your hands higher above your head as he moves his hips back and forth. 

You swallow down the uncomfortable lump in your throat, blinking to try to clear your view that has been obstructed by the flow of your tears. “Gege,” you finally say in a low tone, cheeks burning hot from the humiliation that you feel. 

A high-pitched moan slips past your lips when he pounds into you with more force, biting down on your lip to suppress the accidental sounds you make. 

You pronounce it with a slight accent, but Kun doesn’t mind. It sounds pretty good, in his opinion. It sounds right. Sounds how he likes it.

He murmurs a praise he knows you don’t understand, but Ten is quick to translate. 

“He said you’re a good girl,” Ten smirks. 

This time, you don’t look away from Kun. You just take it. Endure it. 

It doesn’t take long until he steadies his hips and you soon feel him filling you up, releasing himself inside of you. He thrusts two or three times before your cunt milks him totally dry, pulling out of you with a satisfied groan. 

For the only genuine kindness that he has, he pulls your underwear back up and covers your pussy. You don’t say a word, you just follow his rhythm, getting up on your feet. 

You feel lightheaded, your legs a bit wobbly. It’s like there’s a gaping hole between your legs and you can’t ignore it, nor will you be able to in the next few hours. 

Kun and Ten bring you to the door, Kun’s hand grasping your bicep to prevent you from tripping over. He opens the door, but Ten holds you back for a second.

“Wish I had laid eyes on you first if I knew it was that easy to have you,” he whispers beside your ear, a playful smile drawn on his face. 

Kun watches, a little irritated he doesn’t catch on what Ten said to you, but he can conclude it’s nothing sweet by the way your eyes widden. 

You quickly leave their hotel room, not once looking behind and Ten closes the door. 

It doesn’t matter anymore. He got what he wanted, and that’s it.

[fruithoughts]

. . . when he needs a new wallpaper

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!devil!reader, body writing, mentions of mindbreak, suggestions of exhibition, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗱𝗼𝗹𝗹’𝘀 𝗯𝗮𝗱𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗿𝗯𝘀 ∣ poll winner [ beelzebub + body writing ]

“All done, baby, wanna see?”

you weren’t so sure that you did, but you nod in a daze, and a chuckling Beelzebub tightens his grip on the nape of your neck, dragging you to stand in front of the mirror.

though your eyelids are heavy and your eyes are blurry from faded tears of ecstasy, you can make out the black ink chicken-scratched across your stomach. the biggest words you could read was bold and still dripping raven paint, taking up the majority of your lower abdomen.

THE KING’S WHORE

you would’ve blushed, had all of the decency and shame not been fucked out of you only moments before, and instead, you mouth the words, liking the idea of saying it out loud. “I—I’m…”

“My little whore,” Beel nodded, as if confirming that you’d read the print, and he was smirking wolfishly, before trailing his fingers to another word he’d written upon your bare flesh. “Cumdump.” he smears the ink a bit as he moves on to the next saying, “to use and abuse.” he chuckles, watching your eyeline jump to every new word he points to, “Are you reading along, sweetling?” but when you nod, he knows it’s a lie. his lips purse. “If you had a single thought behind those eyes, I might believe you. But you don’t. You’re all used up, and that’s why I’m going to show you off around the kingdom.” both of his hands reach around you from behind, fingers gripping your thighs to spread them apart. “So everyone can see what a ooey, gooey, braindead mess I’ve made you.”

his amusement is evident when, as he forces your thighs to part, a drool of his cum leaks out of your abused, overly sensitive cunt. scrawled across your thighs, messily and almost completely diluted with your and his juices combined, was another large saying.

BEELZEBUB’S CUNT

you moan as you drip his release all over the floor, but your belly is just a little bulging; you’re so full of his cum that you don’t miss the excretions.

“You’re going to… show me off…?” you asked, your voice thick.

Beel beams, and nods, fastening a collar tight around your neck. it was only when your heavy-lidded eyes flit up to it that you noticed the word HOLE written across your face, your swollen lips acting as the O. “Mhm, gonna walk you down the street on all fours, just like a conquered animal. You’re going to leak my cum the whole way, your sore cunt trembling and on display so everyone can see how you gape when I’ve hollowed you out. And you’re just going to love, love, love all the attention, won’t you, baby?” as he asks, he grins, beaming with mischief, and grabs hold on your horn with one hand, squeezing tight to hear you mewl and watch your knees buckle under your weight. “Good, good girl.”

[gojosnympho]

“if we ever made a porn video, what do you think the title would be?” you asked your unsuspecting boyfriend, seonghwa, while you both laid in bed.

the dark haired man stopped scrolling on his phone to look directly at you. the look he gave you was nothing short of shock and utter confusion.

“what’s your issue?” he asked

“answer my question first,” you pouted at him.

“do you just say whatever comes into that pretty little head of yours?” seonghwa asked before reaching his hand over to softly massage your scalp. although he already knew the answer was yes.

you ignored him, “i think it would be something like…” you trailed as you pondered and then the epiphany came. “hot ebony gets railed by big dicked asian man.”

seonghwa’s cheeks heated up in embarrassment at your filthy words even though you were the only two people in your shared bedroom. he’d be lying if he said those same words didn’t have his dick hardening in his pants though.

“or maybe it would even say like, ‘black girl gets creampied by a fat dick’!”

all the blood that should’ve been pumping to his brain was going straight to his dick. he bit his lip as he imagined putting you on all fours and fucking his cum into your pussy until neither of you could take anymore. so he decided to play along and indulge in your nonsense, just this once.

“maybe it would say, ‘pretty slut gets her holes filled’. or maybe ‘pretty slut gets fucked dumb’.”

“i think i like yours better,” you said with a nod.

“good,” seonghwa began. he leaned up to kiss you before whispering, “now i’m gonna do everything we talked about, would you like that?”

[whirlybirbs]

I'm not sure if you would write for him but anything for gojo?? I love him and his teasing antics so much lol

SATORU GOJO is shameless.

Always has been, always will be — especially when it comes to you.

His Clan tried to persuade him into plenty of formal arrangements that would be beneficial for all sorcerer-kind. Big talk for a whole lotta bullshit, honestly. Which is fine, because he's Satoru Gojo — not some loser push-over. He knew he was in love with you then, so it was a no brainer: he offered marriage and a promise that he'd be the best he could be for you every day he breathed.

He's buried in you to the hilt, his smirk bleeding into your vision as you whimper and try to adjust to the sheer length of him — something you're not sure you'll ever get used to.

"Aw, baby, there you go," he murmurs dotingly with a dash of humor, "And no swearing this time! Such a big girl—"

"Shut up—"

He's grinning. "Sorry, would you prefer 'mommy'?"

Your brows climb your face, you're confronted with two big, blue eyes dancing with mischief when you finally peel your own gaze open. He hasn't moved yet. He's letting you relax. How kind.

"Gross," you scoff, your breaths falling into a slower rhythm despite the buzz of pleasure in your abdomen, "No thanks."

"I could make you a mommy," he jokes smoothly, "How about that?"

Oh.

Less gross.

Satoru notices the piqued interest.

His eyes narrow comically, his posture still and arms braced by your head. "Don't tell me you're seriously considering that—"

"You're the one making the breeding joke with your dick in me—"

He's shameless. And you're his. And the clan has been asking for an heir...

"Fine," he concedes with a roll of his hips, "But, only if I get to be daddy."

— [ send an ask: birbs’ smut blurbs; minors dni ]

[wayvchip]

making out with wayv

genre/warnings: fluff, suggestive (minors DNI), established relationship, boyfriend!wayv

kun is definitely the type to constantly smile throughout the kiss and you can feel it when he does that, which makes your heart flutter. makeouts with kun are usually quite brief, and very gentle and sweet. kun would also frequently make sure to take short breaks in between kisses in case you ran out of air because he's just considerate like that.

ten would constantly tease you and get you all riled up. wbk ten is a huge flirt. he would smirk the entire time, whisper dirty things to you, and use a lot of tongue in his kisses. plus, his hands would be roaming all over your body and feeling you up. makeout sessions with ten usually lead to more because he gets all hot and bothered just by kissing you.

winwin would be quite shy and even hesitant at first, but quickly gets into the mood. he prefers if you take the lead at first, and then he'll take over after a bit. winwin definitely goes a little crazy when you grab onto the hem of his shirt while he's sweetly kissing you. bro has had so many kissing scenes from his dramas i truly believe he is more experienced than he lets on.......

xiaojun's kisses would be very slow and passionate, because he wants you to feel loved. he's extra and puts on one of his r&b playlists because he likes the romantic atmosphere it creates. xiaojun holds both of your hands in his hands during the whole makeout session too :(( be sure to expect very intense eye contact from him.

hendery KNOWS what he's doing. he knows all the right buttons to push and is a playful tease too, he'll literally pull away and chuckle just as you're about to deepen the kiss. tbh i can see hendery being a biter. now you didn't hear this from me, but i feel like hendery is definitely the type to do the knee thing (iykyk) while he's marking your neck up with pretty purple bruises.

yangyang would get wayyy too excited at the idea of making out with you and practically jumps on top of you, almost bumping his forehead into yours. he would smash his lips against yours and giggle in between kisses because he just can't contain his excitement!!! pro tip: play with yangyang's hair when he's kissing you, it makes him absolutely melt into a puddle.

[vanesycho]

don't you think Ten and his friend "who ten has a crush on" practicing dancing together but turn into something else due to the overwhelming skinchip is kinda interesting?

Yeah I'm just in my FEELS right now 💀

thank you so much for your request🤍😣 I can't help myself when it comes to Ten, this man is so...UGGHHG

Warning:Smut,p in v

wc:1,5k

──────────────────────

"You're still doing it wrong." Ten laughed when you shouted in exasperation, you laid down on the floor and took deep breaths as you looked up at the ceiling.Ten bowed and stepped into your line of sight. “Again?” You sat up, looking at Ten's outstretched hand, you took it and let him lift you up. But you tripped when he pulled you too close, and when you went too hard on Ten, he held you tightly by the waist. “Oh, are you okay, I’m sorry.” When he lightly squeezed his hand on your waist, you held your breath for a moment and pulled back immediately. "I'm good thank you."

There was one part of the dance where you were constantly getting stuck and after almost 15 minutes you still weren’t making any progress. “Let’s rest for a bit, okay? We still have time.” Ten went to a corner and sat down but you didn’t want to give up. When he saw that you were still trying, he grinned before drinking the water. “You’re ambitious, huh?” He watched how your body curves moved, looked at your footwork, and got a better look at where you were going wrong. After watching you for a while, he came to you, you were just sitting there, he leaned over to you. "If you let me?"

You nodded, he made you repeat the dance move where you lay on the ground, he grabbed your legs and came over you. He looked at you lying on the ground, thinking for a moment how beautiful you were under him. You sensed a slight smile on his face. “You’re not flexible enough, you’re stiffening yourself.” Your bodies got even closer when he grabbed your legs and pulled you, his knee caressing between your legs through your clothes not helping at all. "Relax, hm? Want me to help you?" His whispered tone made your body tremble for a moment, you didn't care about dancing or anything else at the moment. “How do you plan to help?” He pulled back, you looked at him with disappointment. “You should do a few more exercises, I’m sure it’ll be better.”

You took a deep breath, walked over to him and tried to replicate his moves, he chuckled when he realized how reluctant you were. "What's with that expression on your face? Was there something else on your mind?" You sat on your knees and clasped your hands behind your back like him, lifted your head and stretched your body. "I don't know what you're talking about." your eyes were closed, but opened when you felt a figure in front of you while. Ten was leaning forward and looking at you with a slight smile. He held your chin that was already up and caressed your cheek. "You're doing well, stay that way for a little longer and we'll move on to the next move."

His fingers moved towards your exposed neck, wandering vaguely along, leaning in even more and starting to plant small kisses. "Ten-" You spoke, with difficulty. You were about to bring your hands to his chest to stop, which were clasped behind your back, but he grabbed your wrists with one hand and stopped you. "Go ahead, you still have 1 minute." The breath he breathed into your neck as he spoke made you swallow with difficulty. He grinned at your reaction, burying his head into your neck, you felt his nose and occasionally his lips. It could be the slowest one minute. Just as his hand was about to go inside your shirt, he pulled his hand back when the alarm signaled that time was running out. He stood up. “Good? One last move left.”

He was practically mocking you and you were letting it happen, the places he kissed still felt warm, you swallowed hard and looked at Ten who was sitting across from you. “What’s the last move?” he grinned and came closer to you, making you lie down slowly on the floor, he got in between your legs, and grabbed one of your legs and lifted you up, leaning slightly towards you "Fuck- wait-" He silenced you with a tiny shh sound and whispered into your face. "Legs play an important role in dancing Y/n, but they are not flexible enough, it will hurt a little but trust me." You didn't know whether to think about the pain between your legs or your dick touching between your legs. Both of them were literally causing you pain, he pulled back when you threw your head back and groaned in pain,you let out a deep breath. “God! That really hurt."

Ten shook his head, you felt his gaze, he examined you from head to toe. "Take off the bottom." You laughed with confuse, tilting your head slightly to the side. “What?” When you noticed his serious face, you wet your dry lips, his eyes immediately went to your lips, he leaned in and placed a small kiss. Then another kiss, then another, then he sucked on your lower lip for a long time, putting his weight on you and making you lie down on the floor again. He back up for a while. "You have to make this move Y/n, one way or another." You felt his warm lips on your neck again. "This time the only thing you'll get is pleasure. Now take it off and let's stretch that beautiful body of yours."

He took off everything that was underneath, taking off your shirt as well, and then he pulled back and grinned for a moment. You felt embarrassed under his gaze. “Oh, you’re more perfect than I imagined.” He leaned over, licked one of your nipples, then sucked on it for a long time. "Let's see if your pretty pussy feels as good as I thought." You watched him take off his clothes, checking out the tattoos on his body, he definitely had a great body, not too muscular, this image made you want him even more. He separated your legs and came closer to you, grabbed one of your legs and lifted up like before.You held your breath as the pain from earlier slowly came, then you felt his cock caressing the entrance to your pussy. "I-It hurts." You let out a moan as he gently pushed the tip inside you. “I’ll make sure you don’t focus on the pain in your leg, baby.” He pushed it all the way inside you and your loud moans echoed in the empty practice room, made him chuckling.

The way he moved slowly inside you was driving you crazy, the inside of your pussy tightly wrapping around him, one of your legs in the air bringing your bodies closer. Ten's eyes rolled back from the pleasure and he took quick breaths. "If I had known you had such a tight and warm pussy, I would have fucked you sooner- oh fuck.." His movements started to get rougher, the wetness and the sound of your bodies meeting surrounded the four walls. You whimpered, you had already forgotten about the pain in your leg, or maybe it didn't hurt anymore because you were used to this position. "Ten..You're so good, fuck but please faster.." The wave of pleasure that came as he sped up his hip movements made you close your eyes, you heard him laugh. "It doesn't hurt anymore, does it? Maybe we should do this exercise before every dance from now on?"

Just thinking about it could make you cum faster, Ten was really talented at dancing, his legs and arms were strong, the way he moved his hips so skillfully, you knew where these would come in handy now. He started to place wet kisses on the inside of your raised leg, biting and sucking occasionally, never breaking eye contact with you while doing so. His cock moving inside you made you moan for a while, one more thrust and you whimpered his name "I'm gonna cum..Don't stop, please." He placed one hand on the ground, the other still on your leg, his movements becoming erratic and rougher. His entire cock went in and out of you repeatedly, your wetness surrounding his cock, some of it dripping down to your pussy. Ten closed his eyes as he felt his closeness, whimpering quietly, breathing irregularly most of the time. "You feel so good baby.. Yeah? fuck- im so fucking close." You let out a tearful moan, finally, your cum dripped down your pussy, Ten pulled back and held his cock with his hand, making a few more movements and cummed on your stomach. You tried to catch your breath, Ten laid down next to you and looked up at the ceiling, you turned to him, you smiled at each other when he looked at you the same way "Does your leg hurt? I was afraid I might have gone a little too far." Actually the pain wasn't as much as before, as Ten said, you had already forgotten it with pleasure. "No, I'm fine." he lifted his head and kissed your lips. You chuckled to yourself as you stared at each other for a moment. Ten frowned slightly. “But maybe my other leg need some stretching too.”

[innocent-artery]

hi! if your requests are open could you do anything for patrick verona? like anything lol ill take it

So requests are actually not open right now, but given that this was sent in when they were I saved it for Kinktober. I hope you like it!

Kinktober 31st: I Knew You'd Come Around

aka hate sex with Patrick Verona

1k words

Summary: Hate sex with Patrick Verona. That's it.

Pairing: Patrick Verona x fem!reader

For the sake of avoiding spoilers, extensive warnings will not be given. This story includes sexually explicit material, reader discretion advised.

While reading, I recommend listening to enemies to lovers, a spotify playlist by me!

~

You hated yourself for doing this, you really did. You hated the butterflies in your stomach for fluttering when he grabbed your ass, hated your hands for tugging him closer by the collar of his, hated your heart for racing at the feeling of his tongue on yours.

That was the general emotion when you were around him. Hate. Hate and frustration and annoyance and pure, fiery arousal.

The last one is the most prevalent as you're pressed up against a bedroom wall, the bass of the song playing outside reverberating on your back. Patrick's hands are all over you, groping and tracing every inch of skin he could find.

"Fucking idiot," you huff in between wet smacks of your lips, yanking at his shirt collar, trying to signal him to take it off.

"Y'know," he starts, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, "for someone who proclaims to hate me so much, you sure are hell-bent on getting me naked."

"They're not mutually exclusive concepts, dumbass." Your words seem frail, and your voice trails off at the end as his fingers tug at the belt loops of your pants.

"Ooh, big words." He purrs, cocking an eyebrow. "Are you doing that thing where you try to sound smart so that I don't notice that you're full of shit?"

"I am not- oh, god..." Any biting remark you may have had ready died on your tongue as his fingers slipped under your pants and were tracing the damp patch on your underwear.

"Aw, not so talkative now, are you?" Patrick placed open-mouthed kisses over your neck, nipping gently every so often. "If I'd known this was all it took to shut you up, I would've done this sooner."

With a gasp, your hand snakes up to Patrick's hair, fingers curling when the pads of his fingers linger over your covered clit, roaming a little before finding the rhythm that made your head fall back with a thump.

"Atta girl, keep making those pretty noises." He hummed, using his other hand to pop open the buttons of your pants and tug them down to your knees.

Well, naturally, you just had to do the opposite of whatever he told you. So you clamped your mouth shut. Of course, you were now resigned to breathing heavily through your nose instead and that was still as audible.

Patrick pulls back for a moment to look at you, eyes darting all over your stony face, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

"Shoulda seen that coming. But we'll get you talking."

And you should have known he wasn't all talk. Before you have the chance to scoff at his remark, his hand dips under the waistband of your underwear to trace along your folds.

You could feel your cheeks turn hot as you saw his eyes go wide with awe and amusement. "'S such a mess down there, pretty. Little ol' me did that?"

He knew you weren't going to admit that, so he didn't wait for a response. He got all he needed when he saw you react, saw you keen when his fingertips dragged over your clit, resuming the rhythm that set fire in your belly.

"Aw, it's okay," he purrs, tonguing over your collarbone. "Y'don't have to say it. Y'know why? 'Cause this pretty pussy says it all for me, doesn't she?"

That makes your pussy clench, and you know he can feel it. An airy chuckle tells you he definitely can. "Thought so. Can feel her asking for it, begging for me."

You can't help the moan that is ripped from your throat when he sinks a finger in, curling at just the right spot to have you raking your nails down his shoulders, hanging on for dear life. Your legs are already trembling, and stray hairs are already pasted to your forehead by sweat.

"Fucking hate you," you sigh, but when you're rolling your hips up into his hand it doesn't hold much venom.

"Can't hear you, sweet cheeks, might need to speak up."

"I hate you."

"What's that?''

"I hate you." You can feel pleasure boiling in your gut, seconds away from boiling over.

"One more time," he purrs, pressing his palm up into your clit.

"I hate you! Patrick!" You grasp onto his shoulders as pleasure comes over you in waves, spreading through every vein into your fingertips until you're left with a blissful afterglow, panting and whining.

"There we go." Patrick wipes a hair that fell over your mouth away, grinning. "Knew you'd come around."

You roll your eyes as Patrick pats your cheek and then leaves towards the ensuite bathroom. He comes back a moment later with a wet rag and hands it to you.

He stays for cleanup, but for the first time in all the time you've known each other, it stayed silent.

As you fixed your hair in the bathroom mirror, Patrick came quietly up behind you and placed a glass of water on the counter- you hadn't even noticed he'd left, you'd been so lost in thought.

"I'm assuming you don't want to be seen together, so I should leave now."

You didn't respond. You weren't sure why, and you weren't sure what the answer would have been if you had. But Patrick doesn't seem to take offense to it, instead stepping away from the bathroom. You watch through the mirror as he heads towards the bedroom door.

He stops in the doorway, hand on the doorknob. He's wearing his telltale grin and his hair whips with the movement as he looks back at you.

"Oh, by the way, if you ever feel like hating me again, give me a call."

.

Patrick Verona Masterlist

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Miscellaneous Characters Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 12/12)

AHHH !! friends, we've come to the end of my first fully done series, and she's not perfect in a lot of ways but she's mine and I'm so happy and thankful to have shared it with you lovely folks

i hope I've done them justice, enjoy <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you decide to visit eddie for a chat

contains: enemies to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of anal, mentions of death (readers relative), sexual themes, angst, heavy mutual pining, fluff, and eddie being so head over heels that it's hot <3

word count: 10.6k

| previous part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“So, from the new album— Wasting Love.”

Over time, Eddie’s learned that he can’t stand interviews— especially interviews with questions aimed towards nothing but tabloid gossip and headlines. The first big interview that Corroded Coffin booked was exciting because— well, it was their first one! Maybe the questions weren’t as intricate and thought-out as the ones they gave David Bowie on TV, but it was something.

That excitement wore off quickly, though, and unfortunately, interviews are one of the top ways to spread publicity so— “Wasting love,” Eddie huffs, tipping his hips forward as he shifts on the couch. He’s bored out of his mind, aching to leave and be done with the shitty questions about his love life or the people he hangs around or whatever. He taps the heel of his foot into the ground, lips twisting as he chews at the inside of his cheek, “What about it, man?” Eddie asks.

The rest of the band is in the fucking clouds— why would they answer a question about a song entirely unrelated to them? Plus, Eddie’s 99.9% sure they did a few lines without him, which, fucking assholes.

The interviewer shrugs, “Well, why didn’t it make it to the final cut? And what’s it about? Tell us more about that track.”

What a bullshit fucking question. 

Wasting Love is one of the most, if not the most, straightforward songs Eddie’s ever fucking written. The only reason why he’s asking about this is because, well, there’s been rumors of Eddie and his most recent love affair— none of which are true, but Eddie doesn’t bother to come out and tell the truth because what’s the point? What’s the point in telling the truth if it will get twisted anyway?

Either way, Eddie shrugs, blinking behind his dark sunglasses, “I mean…” He purses his lips and tips his head side to side as if thinking, “Kinda self-explanatory with the lyrics, man.” He finally responds.

And in the background, Eddie can see Richie practically constructing his next ‘I know you hate it, but it’s good publicity’ lecture. So, Eddie relents— “It’s about… meaningless sex basically. And it didn’t make the cut because it was a shitty song.”

It wasn’t, actually, Eddie thinks it was a great fucking song, but the intentions behind it— not quite so.

“I think the fans would disagree on that.” The interviewer jokes.

Jeff takes a deep breath and shifts in his seat, “I mean, part of it was because it just didn’t flow with the essence of the album.” He adds, and Eddie mentally thanks him for taking over and so easily diverting the topic to something else. For the rest of the interview, Eddie’s mind is elsewhere, thinking about everything outside of this room, thinking about what he’ll eat later, thinking about the show tonight, thinking about you.

Yeah, you haven’t left his fucking mind in the past six months you’ve been apart from one another. It’s been six months, and Corroded Coffin has released two albums and started their second leg of tour since he last saw you— and you’re still all he thinks about.

You’re still in his dreams, still dancing behind his eyelids when he shuts his eyes, still vomiting all over his fucking journal when he writes. It’s madness, really. Eddie can’t remember the last time he was this hung up on someone— he wasn’t even this distraught when Chrissy left him.

Sure when he and Chrissy ended, he wallowed in it for a month or two, but it wasn’t long before he got fixed on uppers and groupies. Chrissy was heartbreaking in the sense that she was his first love, his first real relationship— but this… this is different. Eddie doesn’t know why it’s different, can’t really pinpoint where the colors change, and the memories start to jab at his chest differently, but he feels it.

He feels it when he’s sitting backstage before a show, feels it when he steps into a new hotel room every night, feels it when he’s ruffling through his suitcase and comes across that journal that’s been haunting him for ages now, and he definitely feels it when he reads the fifth page in the Rolling Stone magazine where the description of Eddie resides, the one where you’d crafted and molded Eddie into a shape he’d never been able to see before, the one where Eddie first came to terms with the true sight of you and your intentions.

Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t know how he ended up in this predicament, but by god, he would never fucking recommend it because— fuck, you won’t even talk to him!

And sure, you don’t owe Eddie anything, you don’t owe him a call or a chance to visit or anything of the sort, but Eddie was holding onto that sliver of hope you gave him before you left. 

He asks about you when he can, because, unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s quite familiar with your boss, Anna, and she’s like an annoying older sister to him. Anna tells Eddie how much of an idiot he is occasionally, but she always cracks and tells Eddie that you’ve been good and how you sometimes mention him, but it’s always quick, and nobody ever has room to pry about it. And when Anna tells Eddie about how you crossed paths backstage with a certain red-headed girl and read her to filth, Eddie chuckles and mumbles something along the lines of, “That’s my girl.”

Anna nearly gagged then. 

Still, Eddie only catches glimpses and whispers of you, never really getting the full fix to last him a day, but it’s enough to keep him alive and wanting. 

“Maybe she doesn’t get your calls, man.” Gareth shrugs, leaning into the mirror as he ruffles his hair. It’s been hours since the interview now, and showtime is in… Eddie doesn’t know when because he didn’t listen when Richie was rambling on about tonight’s schedule.

“She gets my calls, dude; Anna said she does,” Eddie grumbles.

“Okay, well, then maybe she’s just, like, over it. I don’t blame her; you're a pain in the ass.”

Eddie kicks his boot into Gareth’s shin, and the boy hisses, tossing a red Rillos wrapper at him. “Ow, asshole. It’s not my fault she hates your music.” He snips. Eddie makes a face, “It’s your music too, dumbass.” 

Gareth scoffs, “Yeah, but you wrote an entire fucking album about her. Our album is literally about her, you know that, right?” And Eddie thinks he should just kick Gareth’s teeth in at this point, maybe that’ll get him to shut up. “How would you know it’s about her if I never told you it was?” Eddie prods.

Gareth rolls his eyes, dark eyeliner casting a shadow on his face as he turns to glare at his friend. “Is there another chick you’ve been fucking that’s got you by the balls that we seem to have forgotten about?” Gareth sarcastically asks. Eddie glares at him, reaching for the cigarettes on the vanity table and sparking up.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke when he answers, “No.”

Gareth makes a face, eyebrows raising in an ‘I rest my case' manner. “And she’s not a chick,” Eddie adds.

Gareth hums with a tight grin, reaching out to poke at his friend's face, causing Eddie to grimace and bat him away, “You’re in love, Munson. Fix it or get over it,” He says shortly before making his way toward the door. Eddie can hear the dull scream of fans when Gareth opens the door, and Eddie thinks about the tickets he’s sent you every show— prays to whatever false god there is that you decided tonight is the night before he decides hope is useless and you’ve gotten over him. Gareth cuts through Eddie’s thoughts, “Come on, I can hear Richie’s bitching from here.”

Eddie’s mind is never in the game until he steps onto the stage, with bright lights blinding him, screaming fans, and his adrenaline at an all-time high. He comes back to earth then, comes back, and does the fuck out of his job— because this is the best part. The best fucking part, and it’s always been that way.

And it gets better when Eddie scans the crowd, coming down from the first song of the night and finally taking a look at his audience, and there he sees it— he sees you. There you are under flashing lights, drowning in a sea of people with that glint in your eyes. 

Eddie thinks he’s imagining it because, fuck, he’s been dreaming of this for weeks on end; surely his delusion can reach the heights of hallucinations, right? But no, you’re real.

You’re so fucking real. So fucking insanely real beneath Eddie’s fingertips when he reaches out, ignoring the screams and clawing of fans as his fingers loop around your wrists and he says your name.

God, you’re really fucking here.

Eddie looks prettier than you remember when you first see him— curly mane draped over his shoulders and dark tattoos glistening on a bare torso, white lights framing him like he’s some kind of fucking archangel.

He’s gotten thicker in the few months, beefier around his arms and chest, and the long chains and pendants he wears from his neck rest down the valley of his torso, smeared in sweat and sin. You want to drag your tongue across his chest, taste the salt and his cologne, tug the silver cross between your lips, and suck and make him whimper.

His eyeliner is smudged and dark, and his smile when he gets a moment to take in the crowd makes your chest ache. He’s so pretty it hurts. He’s a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You missed him. God, you missed him so much.

His smile falters when he sees you, and you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but his eyebrows pinch like he’s in pain, and you only want to wrap yourself around him and breathe in that scent that’s been haunting for nights on end.

He’s insane for jumping down to the barricade, like, completely-lost-his-fucking-mind, down-in-the-gutter, insane. But you can’t find it in you to protest when he steps up to the fence, reaching out and looping his warm finger around your wrist. “What the fuck?”

Your lips twitch into a smile at his words, but the crowd is getting rowdy with their beloved rockstar so up close and an elbow is being shoved into your side and Eddie moves quicker than you can comprehend, tugging you forward to the very front and motioning you to jump over.

“You’re insane!” You yell over the noise of the crowd. Eddie grins, damp curls dangling over his eyes as he peers down at you, “Unless if you wanna get crushed, be my guest.”

It’s slightly difficult, and there are a lot of gangly limbs and yearning hands reaching out everywhere, but Eddie eventually gets you over the barricade, and you’re gazing up at him with a warm grin when you sway on your feet. You wish you and Eddie could just walk away and have each other like you’ve been imagining for months, but Eddie has a job, and he’s working.

His eyes are blown wide, and his lips are so kissable, and his warm hand is squeezing your hip as he nods toward a security guard. “Keep an eye on this one, Rob,” He shouts over the screaming fans. You’re eyeing Eddie as he steps back toward the stage, sinking his in-ear back into place with a sly grin as he winks, “She’s real sneaky.”

The show is great, as it always is, and Eddie tries to be deft about it, but it’s evident to just about everyone how he practically clings to the side of the stage where you’re standing in front of. It’s cute, you’ll admit, but you feel bad for the fans, so you try to move around a bit.

The last song comes, and the show ends with Eddie and Jeff practically climbing over one another as they shred their guitars and the crowd goes insane when Eddie leans forward to drag his tongue up the side of Jeff’s face, grinning when the other boy rolls his eyes and walks off.

You’re being pulled backstage quicker than you know it, just in time to meet the group as they jog off the smokey stage with big grins on their faces.

Jeff is smothering Naomi in a sweaty hug and smattering kisses all over her face, and you’re glad to see they’re still together. Gareth is twirling his drumstick between his fingers and scanning the room for someone, but you don’t have time to try and figure out who because the one person you’ve been waiting for steps out next, and he’s got the biggest grin on his face as he practically jogs up to you.

You’re smiling and giggling out a greeting as he steps up to you and grasps your face between his hands, “No kisses!” You warn before he can lean in, and Eddie’s too excited to even pout about it. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, you know that?”

You reach up to slink your fingers around his wrists as his thumbs caress the soft skin beneath your eyes, “Got enough life left in you to talk?” You ask. Eddie’s eyes dance across your face, taking you in like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to before he nods. “Always.”

The dressing room seems to be the altar of truth for you and Eddie.

It’s dawning on you that most of the pivotal moments between you and Eddie have been in a dressing room, so it’s not irrational for you to feel a bit uneasy when you step in, and Eddie closes the door.

He’s like a kid in a candy store, trying not to touch what he sees. His eyes are so bright, but you can tell he’s holding himself back from doing and saying the things he wants, and you appreciate that he’s giving you the space, waiting for you to give him your yes or no.

Eddie plops onto the couch in the middle of the room and looks at you with a glint in his eyes. You deeply breathe, shifting in your spot before leaning back against the door, tipping your head as you study him; thighs comfortably spread, inked stories fluttering to life with each rise and fall of his bare torso. He’s a dream.

“I thought you’d be way more upset.”

Eddie’s lips tug like he wants to smile at the sound of your voice, or maybe it’s the sight of you, and he shifts in his seat with a shrug, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his lips, and when you see him pat himself down, you’re already moving like it’s muscle memory.

You pick up the lighter on the coffee table and walk over to Eddie, sparking the flame as you speak, “You’re allowed to be upset, you know?” You remind him. Eddie’s gaze flickers in color as he looks up at you, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that rise up on your skin when his hand reaches up to rest on your hip, thumb caressing you over the material of your skintight dress. Streams of fire are licking up your spine as he leans forward to burn the end of the paper stick, and your center aches when he gently squeezes the fat of your hip. All throughout this, Eddie never lets his eyes fall from you.

He mumbles a short thank you once the cigarette lights, leaning back to rest against the seat as he looks up at you. You fight the urge to comb your fingers through his hair or do something dumb like climb into his lap. No doubt talking would fly out the window then.

You gently toss the lighter onto the coffee table and sit on the loveseat across from the pinnacle of your thoughts from the last six months. Eddie speaks around a cloud of smoke, “Do you want me to be upset?” He asks.

You shrug, trying your hardest not to break beneath his unwavering eye. “I don’t know.” 

Eddie smiles then, and the strings of your heart play a symphony to the notes of his voice when he speaks, “I was for a little bit,” He admits, tapping ash onto the carpet, “But then Wayne told me to get my head out of my ass.”

You huff out a laugh at that, and Eddie grins. “How is he?” You ask. Eddie tips his head back and forth like he’s thinking, “Same old man as before. Think he’s got a girlfriend now. He’s being an asshole about the details, though.” He rolls his eyes, and you snort. You’re happy to hear Wayne has a person for himself now; if anyone deserves it, it’s him.

You shift, like you can’t seem to get comfortable enough, and you know you’re stalling, and you can see Eddie fighting to not call you out, so you try to ease into it; “Is that when you stopped calling?” You ask.

Eddie stiffens under the question, and you know the answer. He grimaces and runs a hand over his face with a soft groan, “Fuck,” he curses, “Fuck, yeah, it was.” He answers. “I’m sorry, I’m a fuckin’ hothead. I had made it a goal to call every night and then—” “I upset you.”

Eddie’s eyes are soft, and you have to force yourself to keep your eyes on his, “It wasn’t fair what I did, Eddie; I’m sorry—”

Eddie shakes his head, briefly shutting his eyes as he waves you off, “Nah, fuck that. You don’t need to apologize—” “But I do. I told you I wanted space, and then a week later, I’m plastered on a fucking cover with Baine fucking Carter.” 

Baine Carter is a well-known songwriter within the industry. He’s got tracks spread all over the top charts, and he has a way of talking that can make just about anyone fall into a trance until you realize most of what he’s saying is just made-up bullshit. In hindsight, Baine wasn’t much different than most people in the music industry— it was a moment of weakness and pure vodka-weighted thinking. And, of course, it’s the moment when cameras find you.

“Kinda my fault too,” Eddie shrugs, “Camera’s wouldn’t have found you if I didn’t have press riding me.” And he’s right, but shitty press isn’t his fault, so how much of that can you really blame him for?

Eddie snickers at the memory of you painted on the cover of several magazines, “Think you’ve got a type, sweetheart.” He teases. Your face screws up in defense, and you scoff, “What does that mean?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Come on, you’re gonna tell me you didn’t say my name when he—” “We didn’t do anything— firstly— and even if I did say your name, I would never in a million years admit it.” You point out with a raised eyebrow. 

Eddie smirks with a playful glint in his eye and he deeply breathes as he ashes his cigarette and rises to his feet. “I don’t care that you hooked up with Bain fucking Carter,” Eddie softly admits with a hint of a mocking grin, “Did it deeply wound me to the point where I almost thought I was gonna die? Yes.” He jokingly says, to which you want to roll your eyes at, but he’s stalking over to you like he’s some lion on the prowl, and all you can muster is a small huff with a mumbled, “You’re dramatic.”

Eddie stands in front of you and leans over to press his palms onto each side of your seat, leaning down until his face hovers above yours, “I’m kinda known for it, darling.” He winks.

Your core stirs at the proximity, and you can feel his breath against your top lip. “I will admit, though,” Eddie lets his hand drop to round over your bare knee, callused fingertips caressing your soft skin, “It gave me a huge ego boost seeing you with a literal replica of me.” He snickers, fingers dancing into the inside of your thigh. You huff, a playful glint in your eyes as you run your tongue across your teeth, “Yeah, I imagine your head couldn’t fit through the door for at least a month, huh?”

Eddie shrugs, “Depends. Which head we talking about, honey?”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes when he gently squeezes at the warm skin of your thigh. You tip your head lower, holding your gaze on Eddie as you lowly speak, “I’m not having sex with you tonight, Eddie.”

Brown eyes flash with a familiar look you’d missed before they drop to your lips. “What about a kiss? Just one.” He presses. Your eyes narrow, “I doubt you could ever do just one.” 

“You’ll never know if you never try.” His lips twitch up into a sly grin, taunting you and pushing you until your brain is just a muddled mess of yes, no, yes, no, yes, n— fuck it.

It’s like a sigh of relief to have Eddie’s lips on yours after such a long time. Weeks of nights and days spent trying to remember how it felt having his plump lips pressed onto yours, how he tasted, how warm his tongue was when it slunk into your mouth. None of those times you’d try to remember, none of those phantom feelings that would breeze through your body could ever amount to how it actually feels— it’s as if you’re seeing color for the first time.

It’s a fucking kiss, that’s for sure.

It’s long, and it takes you both a second to relearn the kinks and maneuvers you both favor, but then it’s as if time never passed between your bodies— you’re moving like one unit, like every second of your lives has built up to this moment.

Unfortunately, air is a necessity to living, so you’re pulling away sooner than you’d wanted to. Eddie’s other hand is digging into the cushion beneath you, and you can practically hear his thoughts spinning as he wills himself to pull back. You shiver as his fingers squeeze your thigh one last time before slipping away. 

“How's that for a kiss?”

Brown eyes with pools of liquid gold, you missed the searing pain it gave you each time you reached out and touched. You purse your lips, tasting him on your tongue as you tip your head in thought— menthol and whiskey. “Care to answer a few questions? Pick up on our game?”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, breath tickling your nose as he snickers with a glint in his eyes. He studies you for a moment, like you might pull out and say never mind, but you only raise an eyebrow as you await an answer. “Your place or mine, honey?” He drawls.

You preen at the open door he’s lent you, “It’s your city, isn’t it?”

You don’t take the same car with Eddie to his place.

It’s not that you didn’t want to take the same car, but something about that look in Eddie’s eyes said that he absolutely wouldn’t be behaving on that car ride, and you immediately suggested separate vehicles. You’re unsure if you trust yourself to hold your promise in a confined space with Eddie… or maybe you don’t trust him… or— yeah, it’s both of you. Eddie wasn’t ecstatic about it, but you don’t care because you swear to god you aren’t going to fuck Eddie before you talk— like, really talk.

There are things that you both need to say, uncover, and express feelings about, and god forbid you get dicknotized before the words can come out correctly.

Eddie’s home is everything you thought it would be: chaotic in taste, lively, musical, whimsical, and all things that scream Eddie. The entryway is open and vast, with a clear view into the living room, where you can see a sunken living room build with guitars and papers strewn about. 

Eddie’s ushering you further into his home before you can look deeper into the entrance, but you don’t mind because his living area is like an artist's wet dream. There are comfy couches, red, cream, and colors alike, and there’s a rug in the middle that looks like a psychedelic trip of dark colors, and along one of the walls is a long shelf of endless records.

“I moved in like a year ago, so it’s not perfect, but… this is me,” Eddie says. You hadn’t been paying attention, but now that he walks into your line of vision, you can see his shoes are off, and his loose blouse is fully open. He looks like a fantasy; lean body dripped in expensive clothes and clinking jewelry, shoulders broad and sculpted beneath his wavy hair. Fuck.

You slip your shoes off and let your feet sink into his home's fluffy, deep red carpet, never once dropping your gaze from him as you walk over to the couch. “It’s beautiful, Eddie. It’s very you.”

You sink into his couch, turning so you can face him with your arms crossed over the back of the sofa as you watch him pick a record and set it up. Through the surround system of his home, the familiar riff to Tommy Bolin’s Shake The Devil rings. You watch Eddie sink a hand into his hair, shaking out his messy curls before pausing. The guitar is loud and you’re leaning forward when he snaps his head to dramatically look over his shoulder. You stifle a laugh, intrigued to see where he’s going with this— and you hate to admit that you begin enjoying the show when he turns around, fingers crafted and messily playing an air guitar to the track.

His stomach and chest flex with each of his moves, the buckle and button to his jeans open to flash you a dangerously low view of his happy trail leading to sinful places. He’s walking sex; head tilted back as he shreds the imaginary guitar, hips moving with the song as he walks toward you. He sinks to his knees in front of you, and with his living room being sunken and him still being on the higher level, you’re just in line with the view of his spread legs, crotch on full display. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he gazes at you, switching to air drums before the words kick in. You can’t hide the smile that graces your lips as he dramatically sings along, leaning forward until his face is just inches in front of yours, ringed fingers reaching to cup your face. Standing face to face with the devil, huh?

Your hands have a mind of their own apparently because they reach out and coast up Eddie’s jean-clad thighs, nails scratching up against the material until your fingers hook into the belt loops of his jeans. You lean forward on your knees, sharing a breath with the pretty boy, and you smile. Eddie groans low in his throat, the breakdown of the song blasting in both your ears and your heart racing. His teeth dig into his lips like he’s trying to physically hold himself back, and you softly laugh. “Laughin’ at my misery?” He asks.

You shrug, “Maybe. You look fuckin’ hot.”

Eddie groans again, eyes rolling back into his head before he dives forward, nuzzling his face into your neck and faking a bite as you squeal. “Can’t say shit like that to me, princess. Wanna fuck the shit out of you.” His teeth drag against your pulse, and you squirm with a louder squeal, causing him to tumble forward, collapsing onto the couch with you, and your limbs mix like one big painting as he dramatically grunts on impact. He shifts until he’s laid on his back, head resting in your lap as he peers up at you.

“You staying the night?” He asks.

You snort, brushing a strand of hair from his face, “Didn’t I tell you we’re not having sex?” You remind him. Eddie huffs and digs his head into your lap as he shuffles in his spot, “Did I ask for sex just now?” He challenges. You raise an unconvinced eyebrow, “So, you want me to spend the night just to spend the night?”

Eddie’s eyes gleam as he looks up at you, “It’s been my dream.”

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him off you with a huff, “Get me a drink, and I’ll think about it?”

Eddie hops up as if second nature, padding over to the stereo and turning it down just enough to hear you as he talks over his shoulder, “Sure thing, honey; what would you like?”

Honey, honey, honey.

You want to drown in it.

You’re not listening as Eddie lists off the drinks he has, busy swirling in sticky, sweet, golden lakes and admiring the shift of Eddie’s hips and ass beneath his jeans. “Surprise me.” You respond.

“Copy that, madam.”

He doesn’t go far because there’s a built-in bar on the other side of the room, so you have the perfect view of him working his magic, mixing liquor and dropping ice cubes into a crystal glass. When he finishes making your drink, he turns and walks over to you with this glint in his eyes, and you feel your body heat under his gaze. “This one's on the house,” He says with a wink, handing you the drink. You thank him, taking the glass as he sits back onto the couch, sinking into the plush cushions and watching you gently sip before pulling a sour face.

He laughs, “Too strong?” He asks. You grimace with a shake of your head, smacking your lips, “No, no, it’s good. Thank you.”

Your legs are kicked up on the couch, and Eddie finds his fingers slinking around your bare ankle, gently squeezing, “Want something comfy?” He asks.

God, he’s relentless.

You laugh, “You really want me to stay,” You tease. Eddie sinks like he’s letting all inhibitions go as he answers, “Desperately.”

He can tell you’re cracking, and you have to hide your grin behind the glass as you shake your head in disbelief at yourself, “Fine. Go, before I change my mind.”

And Eddie’s sprinting up, holding his jeans up from falling as he jogs up the stairs with a happy cheer.

A half-hour passes, and you find yourself sitting on Eddie’s comfy living room floor, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt of his because, in Eddie’s words, ‘there’s no need for pants in a home setting, sweetheart.’ You think he just wants easy access and an eyeful of your bare legs.

Eddie’s licking up the crease of a blunt and your body is warm with whiskey and the shrill of a jazzy melody from the radio. He’s so pretty, leaned over the glass coffee table, bare shoulders flexing, curly hair draping as a curtain as he works. He clicks his tongue when he’s done, and you raise an eyebrow, pressing your bare toes into his thigh when he scoots closer. “Up for a smoke?” He asks.

You don’t smoke much, not that you don’t enjoy a nice high, but you find yourself more appreciative of your highs when they’re spaced out and random. You nod, and Eddie grins, “Atta girl. Here, honorary first hit,” He passes the blunt to you, and you snicker, grasping it between two fingers and holding it up to your lips. Eddie helps you with a lighter, leaning forward to burn the end of the paper, and you take one good drag before pulling the bunt away, rolling the smoke into your lungs to settle as best as you can handle before you sputter out in a small coughing fit.

Your eyes water, and Eddie grins as you pass it to him, leaning forward to kiss your temple, “That was good, baby.”

You watch as he takes a hit of his own, huffing out a few coughs of his own, and jesus christ, why do rockstars always smoke devious shit? It’s strong, whatever Eddie has you smoking, and it only takes you three hits before you already feel a buzz coming, and Eddie looks so pretty with low eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Ready to play our game?” He rasps out.

“Mm.” You agree, reaching out to take another hit.

“Did you listen to the albums?”

I can't destroy what isn't there

Deliver me into my fate

If I'm alone I cannot hate

I don't deserve to have you

Oh my smile was taken long ago

If I can change I hope I never know

God, did you listen to the albums? Sure, you have it ingrained into your fucking mind, and it burns.

You smile, slowly blinking because, of course, that’s Eddie’s first question. You breathe out clouds of fairy dust as you speak, “Yes, I did. Did you read the magazine?” You ask.

Eddie nods, leaning back against the couch, extending his legs out as he eyes you, “I did. Which song did you like best?”

“Mm, the one with the drums.” You smile.

Eddie laughs, and you pass the blunt back to him before leaning back on the opposite couch, toes almost touching when you extend your legs across the carpet. “You’re a kiss-up, you know that?” He gestures to you, to which you only shrug.

Eddie crawls across the living room, and you fight the urge to reach out and thread your fingers through his hair as he plops himself right next to you, leaning against the couch as well. Your thighs are touching, and you can feel the warmth of him, and the smell of weed is wafting through the air, and you just want to nuzzle into Eddie’s chest and never leave.

“Miss me?” You teasingly ask. You can hear the slight smile in Eddie’s voice as he responds, “Negative. You?”

You snort, “Negative.”

You shuffle to lean against Eddie, and he can’t seem to help it when he reaches out to push your hair back gently. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?” You ask.

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch in confusion, no doubt lost by what you mean, considering he already has his lifetime job figured out, “What do you mean?”

You sigh, wriggling as you fight the urge to wrap your body around him, “I mean,” You shrug, “Well, you’re not gonna do this forever, right? Like, at some point, you’re going to have to throw in the towel, age, and whatnot,” You dismissively wave, “What will you do then?”

Eddie pauses and thinks for a moment, and if you couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you would think he vanished into thin air. “I, uh…. Well, you’ll think it’s stupid.” He mumbles.

You frown, turning your head to look at him, “I won’t. Tell me. Please?”

He looks at you with these soft, fond eyes before nodding, “I wanna start a music school in Hawkins— maybe, like, a creative arts school, you know, something for the weirdos. Not just music geeks.” He admits. His tone is so soft, maybe the softest you’ve ever heard, and he’s fiddling with his rings like he’s nervous, and it’s the cutest sight you’ve ever seen.

“It’s not really celebrated there. Creativity, I mean.” He adds.

You stay quiet, allowing him to speak, “Everybody just lives to work dead-end jobs. Being creative is like… a sin or something, I don’t know. I just want to give the kids somewhere where they’ll feel… safe. Seen. Something I never got for myself.”

It’s… it’s fucking brilliant. It’s so brilliant it makes your chest ache, and you decide that you would do just about anything to make sure Eddie’s dreams of a music school come true.

“I told you it’s stupid. No one ever thinks it’s good.” He mumbles after a moment with your silence. You frown and shake your head, sitting up straight to look at him. “No. No, Eddie, it’s amazing…It’s fucking amazing, and you should do it. You have to do it.”

“You’re just playing nice.”

“No, seriously. Fuck whoever said it wasn’t a good idea, it’s brilliant.” You press on, and you want to lean in and pepper kisses all over his face because— seriously, who the fuck told him it was a shitty idea?

“I grew up in a small town too, and— shit, it was not fun wanting to be something other than a nurse or a teacher. Got a lot of shit trying to ‘reach for the stars’,” You huff out a laugh. Eddie’s eyes are so gentle as they gaze at you that you almost melt. “I would’ve appreciated something like that. Munson’s School of Arts.”

Eddie snorts at that, pink lacing with yours as a smile spreads across your lips, “Not bad actually, I might name it that.”

It’s a back and forth of that for a while, silly questions amongst genuine ones until you find yourselves sat next to each other, arms pressed together, bodies yearning to wrap around each other as you fiddle with the strings of Eddie’s carpet. And there’s something, you know. Eddie feels something that he’s not telling you, and it’s killing you because it’s what you need to hear before you take the plunge. “Are you angry with me?” You softly ask.

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, and the blunt was snuffed out a while ago, so he’s not taking a drag but instead just stalling. “I mean,” he pauses, “I already told you, Birdie. What’s the point in going back on it?”

You frown, glancing at him, “Because I want you to tell me how you feel, Eddie.” You respond.

Eddie’s silent again for a longer moment, and you want to whine when he shifts away to sit in front of you. He folds his legs up, resting his elbows over his knees as he sits face to face with you, “Do you want me to be angry with you?” He steadily asks.

Your blink, “I— no?” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and you huff, “Honestly, a little bit, yes. It’s okay to be angry with me, Eddie; that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Eddie’s demeanor is unwavering as he blinks at you, but his tone is accusing, “Do you want me to be angry with you so you can feel justified?”

And, ouch.

That’s not the truth at all. Or maybe it’s some truth, but in your true feelings, that’s not what you mean. It’s only a fleeting thought because you’re human, after all, right?

“That’s not fair,” You frown with a small shake of your head. Eddie raises another eyebrow, and you tilt your head, “I’m only trying to be as transparent as possible, Eddie. That was the main issue.” You remind him.

Eddie turns to the coffee table, grabs your forgotten glass of Jack Daniels, and takes a swig for himself. “You wouldn’t tell me how you felt, and I was always left in the dark.” You say.

“And I’m telling you right now that I’m not angry.” He’s teetering on the edge of irritated now, and you tilt your head. “I listened to the album, Eddie. I listened to the song; you’re seriously gonna tell me you’re not angry?” 

Eddie can only glance at you then, and your frown deepens. “That’s… different.”

“How, Eddie? It’s about me—” “Yeah, because you fucking walked out on me on closing night,” Eddie exclaims. “How was I supposed to feel?”

Your chest tightens as you look into the eyes of your dreams, lyrics swirling in your mind because you’ve fucking memorized every word. You listened to it until you felt sick, dizzy with a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs.

You sold me out to save yourself

And I won't listen to your shame

You ran away, you're all the same

Angels lie to keep control

Your chest aches when the lyrics echo in your mind.

“I just want you to be honest with me. If I made you feel that way—” “No, that’s not—” Eddie shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, and cringes like it's painful. “That’s not it at all— fuck.” He puts the glass down and scoots back over to you; knees pressed into the fluffy carpet beside your thighs as he leans in and cups your face, eyes darting over your pretty features. “I was angry, and I was a shithead, and I had people talking in my ear and— shit. Please don’t think you ever blame yourself for that, please.”

Your fingers are cold, but Eddie’s wrists are warm beneath your fingertips as you frown up at him, “Just tell me how far out you are, Eds.”

Eddie looks at you with soft eyes, a callused thumb running under the delicate skin beneath your eye. He leans forward, pressing his lips against your forehead, and you preen, nuzzling forward and sinking into his warmth and scent that you’ve missed for so long.

“Not far,” He responds, lips brushing over your skin. “You?”

You hum, body reeling as Eddie slinks his arms around you, “Not far.”

Forty minutes and another blunt later, and Eddie’s floating in the fucking sky.

Eddie can’t believe it really, having you in front of him, next to him, limbs pressed to limbs with your laugh ringing in his ears— Eddie thinks this is some sick, realistic dream.

It’s tender, the space you’ve both created. You’re both fragile and reactive in the best way, like a healing exposed nerve, and Eddie will be forever in your debt for how patient you are with him. He’s not good at talking about real shit, but he’s trying to fix that, and you make it easier because you push him in the way he needs to be— you encourage him to say what he feels even if he’s afraid he might end up shooting himself in the foot and chasing you away again because— ‘It’s the only way things will get better.’

But you’ve always been patient. You were patient six months ago, and you’re patient now. You know exactly what you want, and you’re firm in what you say and feel, and it makes Eddie feel safe.

He’s never had this kind of thing— he’s never had a relationship where someone talks and leaves room for him to speak as well— two-way communication or whatever the fuck Robin says. It’s different, and it’s good, and Eddie thinks he must have shit taste if it’s taken him this long to realize it.

Chrissy never really cared for what Eddie wanted or preferred, or how something she did would make him feel. Eddie, at the time, didn’t think much of it and was more than happy to ride along with her ‘low maintenance’ nature, but it only cut him off from growth more than anything.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore because Chrissy is in the past, and you— you’re so pretty standing on Eddie’s couch in just his shirt with a blunt hanging between your fingers. You’ve just returned from changing the record— Surrealistic Pillow; Eddie knew the second you dropped the needle and watched you spin around with a shit-eating grin. 

“Hippie shit,” Eddie mutters as you hop down from his couch. Your eyes narrow, “Hey,” you nudge your foot against his thigh, “Don’t be an asshole. It was on your shelf anyway.”

Eddie slinks his hand around your calf, blinking up at you as you stand over him. You reach down, the burning blunt standing between your fingers, and Eddie happily parts his lips to let you slip the tip in. Burning sativa licks up the sides of Eddie’s brain, and he melts when your other hand sinks into his hair, gently pressing his bangs back as his eyes flutter. You hum, and Eddie’s lips tip into a smile as the smoke churns in his chest. Your knuckles curl into his roots, and Eddie could fucking cum right now, no questions asked.

He’s harder than a rock, and he’s not ashamed when he sinks his hand down the open fly on his jeans to palm himself, lowly groaning as he tips his head up, playfully blowing clouds of smoke up your shirt and grinning when you squeal. He chuckles, hand slinking further up your leg to grip the fat of your thigh as he tilts his head to nip his teeth at the inside of your knee.

He turns to let his chin rest on your thigh, blinking up at you with hazy eyes, “Let me in, baby.” He pleads.

You sink to your knees until you’re face to face, and Eddie’s hands glide under your shirt, warm and itching to explore as he feels the flutter of your lungs beneath his fingertips. “No funny business, Munson.” You remind him, swatting him away when his fingers prod at the cup of your bra. Eddie grins, brain fuzzy and warm, and he can’t stop himself from leaning forward and planting a quick kiss against your lips.

“I have something for you.” He says. Your eyebrows raise, and Eddie smiles, standing up with a grunt and shaking out his stiff limbs. “Don’t move,” He points to you before padding off.

The gift Eddie has for you has been with him since the fourth week he knew you. He’s been holding onto it for so long because he’s been a coward and didn’t know how to form the words ‘I’m sorry’ with his tongue— but now, Eddie’s riding on a high, and he needs you and wants you all the time and there’s no better time than now, right?

He’s holding the gift behind his back when he steps into the living room, and he smiles at the sight of you laid out on his floor, eyes closed as you sink into the music. You’re on cloud nine, Eddie can tell.

He drops to his knees over you, pressing his free hand into the floor beside your head, and his hair creates a curtain over you when you look up at him. “You look… tempting, to say the least.”

Your eyes playfully narrow at Eddie, and you squirm beneath him, “What’re you hiding behind your back?”

There are tears in your eyes as you blink down at the gift in your hands, and you know Eddie must think you’re insane for crying over a book— a journal at that. It’s a pale yellow colored leather, with two leather straps that are tied into a neat bow, and in the corner, your name is stamped in tiny cursive gold letters— your real name. 

It’s a replica of your old journal, the one that had gotten ruined when you tore the pages out to prove a point. But you don’t understand— “How did you get this?” You ask in a soft voice.

Eddie grins, reaching out to thumb at your bottom lip, eyes soft as he watches your eyes dance over the journal. “Called in a favor from Michigan.” He jokingly says. Your chest aches, and you frown when you look up at him, fingers tight around the binding of your gift, “You talked to him?”

Eddie snickers, “Yeah. Got a lot of shit from him first, I’ll tell you that,” He pauses and scratches at the back of his neck, “He told me he hates my music.”

You laugh at that, body warm with adoration because, yeah, that sounds like your grandfather. You sniffle, wiping under your eyes, “How did you know?” You ask.

Eddie shrugs as he sits next to you, “The cover of your journal had his name on it, so I kind of pieced it together since you share a last name.”

You don’t know what to think, what to say. It’s the kindest thing Eddie (or anyone) has ever done for you. Your grandfather had been in the business of handmaking journals for as long as you can remember; he was part of the reason why you took such a liking to journalism. He had a brief history in journalism himself, and he would sit and go through his best works with you when you struggled to fall asleep— he helped you see the world through the lens of an artist, and you never looked back.

You’re elated as you run your hands over the pages, imagining what the phone call between Eddie and your grandfather was like. You wish you could’ve been there to hear it; you wish you could’ve brought Eddie to meet him in person because even though your grandfather acted tough and mighty, he had the softest heart you’ve ever known, and he would’ve adored Eddie.

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head as you put the journal on the coffee table. You huff, turning to clamber onto Eddie’s lap, glaring at him as your hands dig into his shoulders, “I hate you so much.”

Eddie grins at you, and you drop your head to his chest, snuggling further into him when he wraps his arms around you. You grumble against his chest, turning your head to speak, “You’re making it so hard.” You complain.

You feel the rumble of Eddie’s voice in his chest as he hums, “Hm?”

Eddie shifts beneath you, and you sigh, turning your head up to nuzzle against the base of his throat. Your teeth drag across his skin, red lines left in their wake before you let your tongue coast up his pulsing vein, mouth kissing and suckling at what you can reach— and Eddie whimpers.

“You know…It’s past midnight.”

“Fffuck–”

Eddie’s dead.

He’s gone. Six feet under. In the next life, body turned back to dust, never coming back, dead. This must be the seventh circle of heaven— is that a thing? Or is that only hell?

Either way, Eddie’s on an entirely different plane of heaven as you press your body against his, knees tightening around his waist as he pulls you close and smears his lips against yours. He can feel the heat of your core through his pants, and his hips have a mind of their own when they buck up into you.

Your fingers are blind and eager when they wriggle through the tight space between you and Eddie, but it sends shivers up Eddie’s spine when you drag your nails down the soft skin of his lower pelvis.

Eddie’s lips part against yours, and he’s licking into your mouth, tongue flicking at your top lip as you shakily moan. “What happened to no sex tonight?” He lowly teases. His hands sink beneath your shit, squeezing at your hips and guiding the roll of your hips.

“Shut up, Eddie.” You whine, fingertips digging into his shoulders when he rubs against your covered clit. Eddie smiles, watching as your face twists in pleasure, and his chest nearly bursts because you’re so fucking pretty.

“You want me?” He asks.

Your lips twitch into a smile, and your hands slide down his arms to rest over his wrists that flex as they work you back and forth over his crotch. “Yeah,” You breathe, tipping your head down to hover your lips over Eddie’s, “I do. I want you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s tongue runs over his lips, and he catches your bottom lip, and you lick out to catch his tongue before pressing your lips together. Eddie uses one hand to cup your face, “You’re not curious where my dick’s been while we were apart?” He teases.

And if you weren’t practically humping Eddie right now and thinking straight, you probably would’ve choked Eddie out or something— but you only mewl and grind down harder. “Not funny.”

Eddie hums, fingers dancing across the band of your panties before dipping past the barrier. He feels like a pirate who’s finally found the hidden treasure, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to ground himself because, Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.

His cock feels strangled and achy in his jeans, and he imagines how good it’ll feel to sink his cock into you as he swirls a gentle finger around your entrance. “For the record,” He drawls, watching your lips part when he dips his finger into you, “It’s been nowhere. My dick, I mean.”

You breathlessly laugh, hips wriggling, your pussy eager for more. “Been beating it with my fist for the last six months, so. Just want you to know— it’s only you, baby.”

You mewl, leaning forward to press your forehead against Eddie’s as you grind against him, shivering when he finally sinks a finger into you, drawing out to circle your clit with sticky arousal before sinking back in with two fingers.

You’re sharing each breath, taking each other in and out; Eddie watches with low eyes as your face twists in pleasure.

“Take it off,” He grumbles, “Take your shirt off.”

You’re moving like it’s second nature. Shaky hands reaching down to loop around the loose shirt, dragging it up and over your body— and Eddie’s head tips back with a groan. “Jesus fuck,” He curses, one hand busy working you as the other reaches down to palm your breast, “When did you take your bra off, you fuckin’ minx?”

You whimper against Eddie’s lips when he kisses you, the force of his eagerness pushing you back. Eddie keeps pressing you back, shuffling and moving around so he can press you down onto your back and hover over you. “Wanna taste you. Let me taste you.” He begs.

You shake your head, lips messily smearing against his, “No. No, you said—” god, Eddie can’t stop fucking kissing you, “You said you’ll let me have you next time, Eds.” You whine.

Fuck, you’re so fucking cute. You’re a goddamn dream pouting up at Eddie, grinding against his fingers as he ticks them up against your walls. “Yeah? You want me?” Eddie breathlessly asks. Your lips are pouty and swollen as you nod, “Already told you I did.” You say.

It takes everything in Eddie to pull away from you, and he thinks he’s gonna marry you when you reach out for him. Thinks he wants to just whisk you away and live on the side of a secluded mountain or some shit. Thinks he wants you to be the mother of his kids when you smile up at him as he rises to his feet, gazing down at you over the apple of his cheeks as he removes his jeans. You’re so pretty, hair spread out beneath you, tits on full display, tummy fluttering with each drag and push of your breaths. You’re lightly dragging the tip of your finger down your stomach, a teasing glint in your eyes as Eddie throws his hair into the shittest bun known to man, and fuck, you’re dipping your hand between your thighs.

Yeah. This is heaven, and you’re god.

Eddie thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life on his knees worshipping you.

Eddie’s body is warm when he crawls back over you, his body now bare, save for the chains that dangle from his neck. One cross, one guitar pick, one pentagram. They’re cold when they drag up the valley of your chest, and your body perks up with chills.

You slink your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, titling your head up to kiss him as your fingers curl into his messily tied hair. “Give me what I want, Eds.” You softly say against his lips. “Fuck my mouth, please.”

Eddie curses, rutting his cock against the inside of your thigh, and he nods, “Yeah. Fuck. Okay, yeah. Just lay here and look pretty, baby.”

The lasting effects of the three blunts you’d shared with Eddie are swirling through your body, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine as Eddie straddles your hips. He’s the prettiest sight to ever reach your eyes, toned arms, and chest working in tandem as he reaches down to wrap a fist around his cock— and god; you forgot how pretty his cock was. The tip is ruddy and flushed, and your core twists when he angles himself up, and you see the piercing beneath his tip. You definitely hadn’t forgotten about that little detail these past months.

Eddie’s chest is rising and falling quickly and stray pieces of hair cling to his lips when he licks them. You watch with wide, eager eyes as Eddie strokes himself, ringed fingers running against the soft skin of his shaft, pretty hisses curling through his teeth when he thumbs the slit of his tip.

“Quit teasing,” You whine, squirming beneath him. Eddie grins, breathlessly panting as he looks at you, “So impatient.” He mumbles, shifting further up your body until the inside of his thighs press against the side of your tits. You can feel the cool drag of his rings against your sternum, and it sends licks of fire through your core. “My baby’s so impatient, hm?” He taps his cock against your chest, and your frown, fingers digging into his thighs.

“Lucky you’re cute.”

Eddie’s then shuffling and moving around so you’re both comfortably positioned as he kneels over your face, pretty cock glistening above your lips. You open your mouth and let your tongue hang out, ready for Eddie to feed his cock to you, and he chuckles, tapping his swollen tip against your tongue before dragging it to tease you. 

It’s good. It’s so good. The taste of him, the feel of him, the pretty noises he makes. You can feel the cold barbell dragging across your tongue with each slow thrust he gives you, and you can’t wait to feel it inside you again. You’ve been dreaming about it for weeks on end now.

He pulls out with a slick pop, tapping his tip against your lips as he hums, “Ready? Gonna give you what you want now.”

You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

He’s thrusting in and out of your mouth at a mind-numbing and thigh-clenching rate for just under five minutes before he starts to break. You can feel it in the stutter of his hips, the twitch of his cock on your tongue, the shuddered moans and grunts. You reach up to drag your nails down the soft skin of his stomach, and Eddie whimpers for the second time, and you think it might be your favorite sound— you want more.

He’s pulling out with a curse, squeezing at his tip, and you’re such a fucking tease; you lean forward to kitten lick at his aching tip and hum when he hisses. He shuffles back just enough to lean forward and press a messy kiss to your lips, humming at the taste of himself on your tongue.

“Fuck me, Eddie. Please. Want it so bad it hurts.”

“Jesus fuck— turn around.”

You’re shaking, and Eddie’s touch feels like fire as he helps you flip over to lean on all fours. His hands coast up your back and into your hair, and you push your body back into him, ass pressing against his wet cock as you moan when his fingers curl into your hair.

His other hand smooths over your ass, heavily slapping it once before gripping the warm skin as he speaks beside your ear, “Wanna fuck your ass one day, hm? Gonna let me? Say you’ll let me.” “Oh my god,” You roll your eyes with a smile, tipping your head to the side when Eddie kisses your neck before nipping at your ear. You can feel the curve of his smile against your skin, and it makes your chest flutter as he pulls you up to press your back against his chest.

He’s reaching down between you to grasp his cock and paint it against your wet cunt, and you lose your breath. “Come on. Say you’ll let me fuck your pretty ass.” He practically begs.

You moan when he slips his head in, teasing you with what he knows you want. Your head rolls back to rest against his shoulder, and he hums, slinking his other hand up to cup your throat as he continues teasing himself in and out of your pussy.

You smile, lazy and high and blissed out, “No.”

Eddie groans at that, fingers tightening around your throat as he sinks in deeper. “Not even a finger?”

You push your fingers through his hair, his curly strands nothing but a tangled mess within his hair tie. Your legs tremble as you wriggle back into him, but your voice is steady as you speak, “Fuck me first, and maybe I’ll think about it.”

Eddie takes that as a challenge, apparently, because next thing you know, he’s slamming into you and pressing in to the fucking hilt— all big and pierced and toe curling to the point where your moans turn flat, and all you can do is lace your fingers through his that rest on your hip and hold on for dear fucking life.

He’s pressing you face-first into the carpet, making sure your cheek rests against the couch pillow that had been thrown aside earlier. His fingers are clenched around yours, digging into your hip as you whine and moan into his floor, sobbing out his name with each groundbreaking thrust he gives you.

It’s all-consuming; the way Eddie’s fucking you, the filthy words slipping from his mouth, the lingering effects of weed— god, you feel like an exploding star.

Supernova shit or something like that.

Eddie’s cursing and spilling dirty words of encouragement when you come, leaning over to press his chest against your back and coo into your ear.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Keep squeezing me like that, baby. You’re so good.”

“Y’sound so pretty when you’re coming on my cock.”

You’re breathless and quivering, and a pitiful whine slips from you when Eddie pulls out, but you can feel him as he wraps his hand around his cock and finishes off, pretty moans pressed into the skin on the back of your neck. The feeling of his sticky release dripping onto your ass makes you want to go at it again already.

He’s peppering kisses across your neck and shoulders, and your body slumps onto the ground in exhaustion, but you smile when he presses his lips to yours.

“So, was that good enough? Have I been granted access to the holy grail?”

You glare at Eddie from where his chin is hooked over your shoulder. He raises a suggestive eyebrow, and you huff. “I’ll tell you what,” You start, shifting and purposely rubbing your ass back against his sensitive cock, smiling when he hisses.

“Make up for the last six months first, and I might be able to cut you a deal.”

“Now you’re just stringing me along.”

You hum, “Oh, like you did with me some months ago?”

Eddie pauses at that, eyes narrowing at you, and you think— fuck, maybe that was too soon. But then a smile cracks across his face, “Touché.”

He sighs and sits up, peeling himself from your sticky skin before gently patting your hip. “Ass up, baby. Got a lot of making up to do, and we’re on a tight schedule.”

And you think to yourself, with the scent of Eddie whirling around you and his touch all over you and his pretty voice in your ear, that yeah, you can work through this together. Even if the process will tear you to shreds all over again.

After all, that’s the price of falling for a rockstar, isn’t it?

————

the end.

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a/n: HOLY SHIT GUYS

if you've made it to the end of this long-winded (and incredibly late, I'm so sorry) ending to this story i can not thank you enough. these two have been so fun to write and i don't plan to leave them completely in the dust so they're not gone forever, but thank you so much to everyone who read and shared and commented. this story has allowed me to meet the most beautiful, kind, funny, and loving people I've ever had the pleasure of talking to and that will be my biggest takeaway from this journey🥹

the biggest thank yous to my pretty mutuals who have been here the whole way, ilysm and want to shrink you guys and put you in my pocket <3

anyway, i'll shut up now, i hope i was able to do these two justice with their ending!! i love and appreciate all kinds of feedback, and as always, thank you for reading, ily <3

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